


Hear the Magic

by enby_lego_dinosaur



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Deaf Character, Disability, Familiars, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Mild Blood, PRB 2019, Phandom Reverse Bang, Teenagers, University, Witch!Dan, deaf!Phil, extremely mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 21:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19858486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enby_lego_dinosaur/pseuds/enby_lego_dinosaur
Summary: Dan has been intrigued by the quiet boy who sits and draws in the courtyard for a while, but it's not until after a chance meeting in the library that he finds out the real reason for the boy's silence. But Dan has his own silence, and only time will tell if it will keep them apart or bring them closer together.A university, witch!Dan, deaf!Phil AU that you never knew you wanted





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Phandom Reverse Bang 2019  
> based on art by @introvertedturtlethings [link to be added]  
> many thanks to @secretly-a-plant and @jorzuela for being awesome betas
> 
> disclaimer: I am not deaf, and I don't know sign language. In this fic, the BSL included is described from pictures and videos found online, so I apologise if any of it is incorrect

“Dan!”

Dan paused, a T-shirt held in his hands. “Yeah?” he yelled back.

“That was your Great-Aunt Mari on the phone; she says she’s happy to have you stay with her,” his mum called up the stairs. “So I’ll drop you off there on Saturday.”

“Ok, cool.”

His mum moved off. Dan looked back at the T-shirt, then laid it out on his bed and folded it before packing it into the big suitcase on the floor and turning to pick up the next shirt from the pile of laundry.

It had been years since he’d last seen Great-Aunt Mari; it would have been when he was around five or six, at some stuffy family event that clearly no-one wanted to be attending. He hadn’t even really spoken to her then, probably just seen her through the crowd or been hanging off one of his parents’ hands while they talked to her. Dan remembered that she was quite an eccentric old woman; her rather wide body was draped in various shawls and pendants that gave her the air of a cheap fortune-teller.

And now he was going to live with her.

It wasn’t like he particularly wanted to, either. Dan would have much rather just rented a room in an apartment like every other student, but his parents wanted to save money and had asked Mari if she would mind taking him in as she lived quite close to the university. As his mum had just informed him, Mari had agreed, and in just a few days he would be shipped off to spend his first term at uni in her company.

_Great._

*

The world blurred by, grey and wet. The wipers squeaked occasionally against the windscreen, piercing the slightly stiff silence in the car. Dan’s mum was focused on the winding country road, so Dan had plenty of time to think.

_I just hope she’s not strict._ Dan was planning on getting the full student experience, alcohol and parties included, and he didn’t want to be stuck living with someone who would blow up every time he came home at three a.m. or spent a day in bed with a hangover. _We should’ve done a trial run..._

But it was too late now. They had entered a small village, and as they passed a slightly shabby-looking post office, his mum broke the silence.

“So,” she said, apparently trying to sound upbeat and encouraging, “you excited?”

“Not particularly,” Dan muttered truthfully, his head still resting against the window. It had been a long day, a long drive, and Dan really wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Come on, not even a little?”

Dan just shrugged. His mum glanced at him and sighed.

“Look, I know you’re not over-eager to be living with Great-Aunt Mari, but I’m sure you’ll have fun, and if not with her, then with your classmates.”

“I hardly even remember her,” Dan mumbled. “What’s she even like, anyway?”

His mum paused. “Um, well… she’s very, er...”

“You barely even know her, do you?” Dan said. Her silence answered for her. “Great. You’re sending me to live with a complete stranger!”

“She’s not a stranger, Dan. Stop being so dramatic.”

“She’s close enough to one.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence, the tension almost tangible. Soon the village was left behind. Dan’s mum kept glancing at the sat-nav and the address scribbled on a piece of paper, craning her neck to look around at the surrounding countryside through the rain. About a mile down the lane they spotted a signpost half-hidden in the hedge: _Eagletooth House_. The words were painted in a dark, scrawling, gothic font, and the paint was faded and chipped to show through the wood of the sign beneath. Dan gulped nervously, his eyes widening as his mum turned the car down the narrow lane. _This is how horror stories start..._

“I think this is it...” his mum murmured, but she too looked a little apprehensive.

The hedges grew to eight feet as they drove further, towering over the tiny passageway of a road and burying it in shadows. Branches and leaves caught on the wing mirrors and scraped along the side windows, in Dan’s mind seemingly trying to hold them back and warn them against going further.

Then suddenly they emerged from the lane, and Dan was able to breathe again.

The house was tall but relatively thin; probably only two or three rooms on each of the four storeys. Its face was dull grey brick, snaked with ivy and quite simple, but with some intricate details around the large rectangular windows and dark wooden door. The area in front of the building was paved with cobblestones and circular in shape, with plenty of room to turn the car around. A battered-looking navy-blue Fiat was parked in front of the garage door to the right of the house.

Dan’s mum parked the car and climbed out, staring at the house with an unreadable expression on her face before moving round the back to get Dan’s suitcase out of the boot. Dan also got out, feeling on edge as he swung his rucksack onto his shoulder and closed the car door. Looking up, he could see stone gargoyles standing guard on each corner of the roof, and in the centre of the front slope was a dormer with a single circular window.

Dan heard the slam of the boot and looked down to see his mum hurrying past him towards the front door, dragging the wheeled suitcase behind her as it bounced over the cobbles. Dan squared his shoulders and followed.

His mum left the suitcase at the bottom of the three steps with Dan and climbed up to stand in front of the door. She tapped the knocker - a brass one shaped like an eagle’s head - and stepped back. The loud hollow tapping echoed through the house and around the driveway, reverberating eerily. Dan glanced around for any supernatural beings that might have heard, but then the door opened, swinging inwards to reveal Great-Aunt Mari.

She looked different from how Dan remembered her. She still wore dark, flowy clothes, but instead of mountains of shawls she was wrapped in a simple woolen cardigan. Her jewellery was minimal: one simple necklace with a silver claw pendant, and a wedding-style band on each middle finger. She was thinner than Dan remembered. Instead of looking up at her, as he would have as a child, he was now about a foot taller; but even so, he still felt intimidated by her. The most bizarre thing, however, was the fact that she looked _younger_. Dan hadn’t seen her for at least twelve years, and even then she had looked old; now, standing in front of him, Mari’s skin was only faintly lined, as though she was a middle aged woman just beginning to wind down after a successful life. For a moment, Dan wondered if they had the wrong house.

“Ah, Carol. How are you?” she asked, smiling. Her voice was a similar pitch to Dan’s.

“Yes, I’m good thank you. Yourself?” Dan’s mum replied, also smiling despite the slightly shocked glint in her eyes.

“Not too bad.” Mari turned to look at Dan. “And this must be Daniel.”

“Yes!” Dan’s mum beckoned him up the steps, raising her eyebrows pointedly. Dan glanced at her for a second, then reluctantly lugged his suitcase up the steps to stand next to his mum.

“Well,” Mari said, looking him up and down for a moment. “I would say something about how much you’ve grown, but for one, you’re probably tired of hearing it, and two, I’m not that kind of relative. How are you doing, Daniel?”

Dan blinked. “Um, yeah, alright.”

Mari nodded approvingly. “Good.” She stepped back into the house. “Well, come on in then. I’ll show you around. Carol, would you like to come in for a cuppa?”

“Oh, no. That’s alright, thank you,” Dan’s mum said, shaking her head. “I’d best be getting back.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed a brief kiss on Dan’s head. “Bye, Dan. Be good; let us know how you get on.”

“Yeah, ok. Bye.”

Dan’s mum smiled at him, then said goodbye to Mari and went back down the steps and back to the car. Dan and Mari watched her as she got in and drove away, returning her wave just before she moved out of sight down the lane.

When she was gone, Dan and Mari turned to look at each other.

“Well, come in then,” she said after a pause, her smile fading slightly. Dan did as he was asked, and the door shut behind him.

The door opened into a small hall. Directly ahead was the staircase, leading up out of sight to the higher floors. To the left was a door into what looked like a study, with a desk, computer, and walls covered in dusty bookshelves. Where there weren’t bookshelves, botanical diagrams had been stuck to the wall like a strange collage. To the right, the room opened out into a kitchen with a small dining table and a counter island; Dan couldn’t help but notice a couple of odd-looking plants trussed to the ceiling beams or lying on the surfaces. Everything was very dark and wooden, including the floor and panelling on the walls. A simple red rug was laid out between the front door and the foot of the staircase, worn by years of being walked over. The stone tiles in the kitchen were bare.

“Before I show you to your room, Daniel,” Mari said, calling his attention away from his surroundings, “there are a couple of rules that I would like to put in place.”

_Oh, great..._ Dan groaned internally, and Mari smiled slightly as though she had read his thoughts.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to be one of _those_ people; I just want to make some things clear.” She waited for his response, and after a pause Dan nodded to show that he was listening. “Ok. So, firstly: I will not be your maid. I am not going to be running around after you while you sit on your fanny; I expect you to do your share of the housework, including cooking and cleaning.”

Dan nodded. _Seems fair._

“Secondly: I don’t mind you going to them, but we will not be hosting any parties. This house is too old and dangerous, and there is too much that could get broken in the event of drunken teenagers.” As Dan nodded again, she continued: “In addition to that, I must insist that you do not bring home anyone without prior notice, be that platonic friends, girlfriends, or boyfriends.”

Dan felt himself blush slightly and blinked a couple of times before once again nodding his head.

“Right. Thirdly, and most importantly: if and when you do bring people home, _no-one is to go anywhere near the basement_. This rule also applies to you, and I must insist that you heed it, at least until further notice. Is that clear?”

“Yeah.” Dan wondered why, but decided that now wasn’t the time to ask; he didn’t want to get her pissed at him so soon.

“Alright, then. Shall I show you to your room?”

Dan agreed, and Mari led the way up the stairs.

The second floor consisted of a living room and a more refined dining room. The living room was carpeted in a kind of faded green; arranged around the hearth were two armchairs in matching grey fabric and a dark wood coffee table. A large flat screen TV hung above the mantle of the wide fireplace, and the walls were covered in more bookshelves. The dining room was simple and elegant, made of the same dark wood as everything else.

On the third floor were Mari’s bedroom and the bathroom, and finally they reached the fourth floor. There was only one door on the tiny landing; Mari opened it and gestured for Dan to go in ahead of her.

The room was fairly small yet open and airy; the walls and sloped ceiling were painted white, unlike the rest of the house, which reflected the light from the windows and made the room feel bigger. The carpet was a neutral pale grey. In one corner was a simple desk; in another, a single bed. On the opposite wall to the door was the circular window that Dan had seen from the driveway, complete with a window seat and a reading lamp. On the other side of the room to the bed and desk was a simple chest of drawers.

Dan stepped further into the room and dumped his bags next to the bed. He turned around to face Mari in the doorway, and smiled at her.

Mari smiled back. “I hope this is alright. I’m afraid it was thrown together in a bit of a rush, so it might take some work, but feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” Dan said. He looked around again, picturing ways to make the room feel more like _his_.

“I’ll leave you to unpack. Shepherd’s pie alright for you for dinner?” Mari asked, turning to leave.

“Yeah, great.”

“Good.” Mari pulled the door closed behind her, but suddenly it opened again. “Oh, and one last question, Daniel - you’re not afraid of birds, are you?”

Dan frowned at the odd question. “Uh, no?”

“That’s alright then.” Mari smiled and nodded. “Dinner will be about half an hour.”

After the door had clicked shut, Dan sat down on the bed and flopped back, staring up at the ceiling for a minute. _This could work..._

*

When Dan came down to the kitchen half an hour later, Mari was busy with the oven, her back to the stairs. To his surprise, sitting on the counter island beside a chopping board and knife was an inky black raven, who was pecking at the discarded offcuts of vegetables.

“Is that your pet?” Dan asked, approaching the island cautiously as the bird raised its head to look at him.

Mari spun around to look at him. “Oh, Daniel; I was just about to call you.” She glanced down at the raven as it regarded Dan with one beady eye, and reached to stroke a finger down its back. “Um, yes. His name is Jappa.”

Jappa opened his beak to caw at Dan before hopping up to perch on Mari’s shoulder, preening her short, wavy grey hair.

Dan retrieved two sets of cutlery and placemats from the drawer Mari indicated and set the table. One of the chairs was a lot smoother and more worn than the other five, and Dan set Mari’s place in front of it. The chair on the end nearest Mari’s spot was occupied by a perch, so Dan settled himself next to it, opposite Mari.

From where he was sitting, Dan could see two other doors in the back corner of the room behind the stairs. Mari sat down and set his plate of steaming shepherd’s pie in front of him; Dan thanked her and picked up his fork. Jappa flew off Mari’s shoulder and settled himself on the perch.

“So, Daniel,” Mari said. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“What sort of things?” Dan asked, taking a bite of shepherd’s pie. It tasted delicious, and he quickly took another.

Mari shrugged. “I don’t know. But I feel that if we are going to be living together we should probably get to know each other a bit better.” Dan nodded. “Let’s start with this: what course are you doing at university?”

“History.” Dan’s voice was slightly muffled as he spoke, so he swallowed before continuing. “I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, so I thought I’d stay safe and do something generic.”

Mari nodded. “I see. So it doesn’t particularly interest you?”

“No, it does. I just...” Dan paused, unable to find the words. “Yeah, I dunno,” he trailed off, taking another bite of shepherd’s pie.

Mari nodded again, and a few minutes passed in silence.

“So… what about you?” Dan asked. “What do you do?”

“Oh, well...” It was Mari’s turn to falter. “I get by, you know. There are plenty of hobbies for an old woman to occupy herself with.”

Neither of them spoke much for the rest of the meal. Jappa remained mostly quiet as well, except to occasionally caw at Mari for a scrap, which she obliged him.

Once they had both finished eating, Dan offered to wash up and took the dirty plates over to the sink. As he passed, the doors caught Dan’s eye again. He placed the dirty dishes in the bowl and began running hot water over them.

“Where do those doors go?” he asked Mari.

His great-aunt looked up from wiping down the table. “The one in the corner leads to the laundry room and the back door. The one under the stairs leads to the basement.”

“Got it. Don’t go in the door under the stairs.” Dan glanced over at her, still scrubbing the plate in his hands. Mari nodded once, then went back to wiping the table. Jappa squawked at her, and Mari flicked the cleaning rag at him, causing the raven to take off with an indignant cry and swoop upstairs. Mari shook her head fondly and brought the rag over to the sink, setting it down beside the draining rack as Dan placed in the last piece of cutlery.

“Thank you for doing that, Daniel. I’ve got some things to do now; will you be ok to occupy yourself?”

“Yeah, sure.” As Mari started to walk away, Dan added: “Um, do you have wifi?”

Mari smiled. “I’m surprised it took you so long to ask.” She beckoned him through to the study and handed him the card from the back of the router. Dan logged in and took note of the network and password for his laptop, then handed the card back. As he turned to go back upstairs, he noticed a poster on the wall behind the door: a cauldron with sparks and wisps of smoke coming out of it, with writing in strange runes arranged around it.

Before Mari saw him looking, Dan hurried out of the room and up the stairs.

*

The house was much creepier at night.

Everywhere was silent and shadowy; the shapes of the furniture were almost unrecognisable as Dan crept past the open doors and down the stairs in search of a glass of water.

As he approached the kitchen, he heard voices drifting up; one was recognisable as Mari’s, but the other Dan didn’t know - it sounded strange, kind of echoey and muffled and… inhuman. It sounded like they were arguing about something.

“Mari?” Dan called softly; the voices ceased instantly. Dan descended the stairs carefully, but when he could see past the ceiling into the kitchen there was only Mari watching him, and Jappa perched on his chair at the table. “Who were you talking to?”

Mari opened her mouth but no sound came out. She blinked twice, then glanced at Jappa. Dan followed her gaze, frowning slightly. The raven scratched the perch uneasily, looking between Dan, Mari and his own feet. Mari glanced back at Dan, and after a moment she spoke:

“It’s ok; we can trust him.”

Dan looked at her, confused, but that confusion quickly turned to shock when Jappa opened his beak and cawed, but instead of just a screech Dan heard a voice:

_‘Are you sure?’_

Dan stumbled backwards, eyes wide and staring at the bird. Jappa looked back at Mari and said sarcastically, _‘Aaand he freaked out. Of course he did. Just like I told you he would!’_

“Wh-what the fuck?!” Dan hissed at Mari.

Mari held a calming hand out to Jappa to silence him, then spoke to Dan. “It’s interesting that you can hear him now, since you couldn’t earlier.” Dan frowned and narrowed his eyes, elongating his neck out in a non-verbal _what_ gesture. “I expect it’s this house,” Mari continued. “It has brought forth your affinity for magic.”

“Magic…?” Dan shook his head. “Mari, what the actual fuck is going on here?!”

“Daniel, please just listen.” Mari’s voice was calm but firm. She held out a hand to Jappa, and after a pause the raven flew over and perched on her shoulder. “You see, Jappa is not just my pet. He’s my familiar.”

“Familiar…?” Dan thought back to all the strange things he had seen around the house: the dusty bookshelves of thick, leather-bound tomes; the strange plants; the botanical diagrams; the poster of a cauldron with the weird runes…

“Are… are you saying… are you saying that you’re a… a _witch_?”

Mari looked slightly apprehensive. “Yes, Daniel. That is what I am saying.”

Dan blinked. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” he said loudly. “You could’ve told me that before I got stuck living with you!”

“Daniel! Calm down!” Mari shouted, and Dan shut up in surprise at her tone. “I’m not going to hurt you; I am not that kind of witch. I just make and sell medicinal potions.” Dan still looked sceptical, and Mari sighed and glanced around. “Look.” She raised one hand and pointed towards the clean dishes still stacked in the drying rack. Dan watched in awe as the plates rose up and drifted into their cupboard, the cutlery dropping into its drawer and closing behind it.

It was simple magic, but Mari was still pleased with the expression on Dan’s face. She shrugged and spoke again: “And that’s just the beginning.” She paused; “If you would like, I could teach you?”

Dan blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“I meant it when I said you must have an affinity for magic,” Mari said. “Not just anyone can understand familiars’ speech. This house has been inhabited by generations of sorcerers since its construction; every fibre of the building is imbued with magic, so it could easily draw to the surface your natural talent for the craft. If you want to learn, I can teach you.”

The question was left hanging in the air between them for several long moments. Dan eyed it, considering carefully.

On one hand, this was madness: _surely there’s no way that magic can be real, no way that any of that stuff was actually possible_...

Yet on the other hand, _how fucking cool would it be to be able to do it?_

After a few apprehensive minutes, Dan nodded slowly, looking back up at his great-aunt. Mari gave him a small smile.

“Does that mean you would like to learn?”

Dan nodded more. “Yeah, alright. I mean, why not?”

“Ok then.” Mari dipped her head. “We will begin tomorrow. I must warn you that it will be a lot of work, but it will be worth it in the end.”

A grin began to spread across Dan’s face. _Oh, yeah; he was definitely gonna be alright here._


	2. Chapter 2

Dan crept into the lecture hall and sank into a seat at the back, avoiding eye contact with the other students already settled in their places. He began pulling out his pen and workbook, and the chattering faded into silence as the professor entered. She introduced herself and then launched into a “brief” thirty-minute overview of the course.

Dan listened blankly. The professor’s words seemed to be going in one ear and out the other; he wasn’t used to getting up this early, nor the long commute to get to the university from Mari’s. It ended up taking almost an hour in total, not including the time spent getting lost trying to find the right building: first, he had to walk fifteen minutes down the lane back to the village through the heavy mist that had settled overnight and clung to his clothes and hair, turning his brown waves into a curly mop; then, he had to catch a rickety bus that sounded like it would explode at any second and took another half an hour to limp from the village to the town where the university was situated. Dan then had another fifteen minute walk to get to the main campus from the bus stop, by which point he had already had enough and was ready to go back to bed.

In short, his first day of lectures hadn’t got off to the best start.

Having finished telling everyone about what the course entailed, the professor flowed straight into her actual lecture. Dan tried to look like he was paying attention and taking notes, but by the end of the ninety minutes, his piece of paper was occupied by only a couple of scribbled key words and a scratchy doodle of a sloth with an emo fringe and a bored expression.

The shrill chime of the bell jolted the room out from under the soporific effects of the lecture, and there was a scramble to stuff papers in bags and get out of the auditorium ASAP. Dan joined the wave of jostling students and was carried along absently. He had a couple of hours’ free time now before his next lecture, and as he had no assignments and therefore no reason to go to the library, he decided to find somewhere to get something to eat.

However, getting out of the labyrinthine building proved another challenge. Even once the floods of students dissipated Dan still found it difficult to navigate the corridors, and the map he’d found online was doing little to help.

Eventually, and completely accidentally, he found himself in a pretty little courtyard. It was square, with flower beds all around the edges and a twisted sycamore growing in the centre, encircled by benches. The courtyard was deserted at first glance, but as Dan rounded the tree on his way through he noticed a dark-haired boy sitting on one of the benches. His fringe hung down, hiding his face, but his pale, slender hands were engrossed with a pencil and the sketchbook balanced on his knees.

The boy didn’t look up as Dan’s footsteps crunched on the gravel, or even as the footsteps paused. Dan stood for a moment, watching, intrigued by the motions of graphite on paper. Then his social anxiety overtook him and he hurried away, hoping that the boy hadn’t noticed him staring.

*

He kept seeing the boy around campus in all sorts of different places over the next month or two: often in the courtyard, but also hunched over secluded tables in the library or just in the corridors around different buildings.

Dan wasn’t sure what it was about that boy in particular that caught his attention. He probably didn’t see him any more than any other students, but for some reason Dan noticed him even amongst the busy crowds. Maybe it was his jet-coloured hair that stood out from the common browns and blondes, or his pale skin, or his persistently calm demeanour in the chaos of so many young and inexperienced adults compressed into one area.

Even when Dan was leaving campus or walking back to the bus stop, he would sometimes see the boy heading towards the accommodation blocks, his hands full of books or gripping the straps of his backpack.

Many times, Dan thought about trying to talk to the boy, maybe introduce himself and possibly make a friend, but he never did. Despite his curiosity about who the boy was and why he was so outstanding, there was one thing that Dan did know about him: for all the times Dan had found himself glancing over or staring at the boy, not once had the boy looked up and met his eye, or even acknowledged Dan’s existence at all.

*

When Dan wasn’t at uni, a large part of his home life was taken up by Mari’s mentoring. Her methods were harsh and challenging and relentless, but they did seem to be working; Dan was steadily improving in his witchcraft, and even enjoying it despite the hard effort it required.

“You don’t need a wand to perform magic,” Mari had told him during their first session when he had asked. “Power can be channelled through objects to enhance it or make it more precise, but most common spells can be accomplished just as well, if not better, with only hand movements. Focus on what you want to achieve and channel the energy through your fingers.”

Dan listened, eager to learn, and concentrated on the pen that they were using as a practice target, trying to imagine it lifting up out of the inkwell and tracing lines across the paper.

“You’re trying too hard,” Mari chided, moving around him. “Magic comes naturally; you won’t get anywhere if you try to force it.”

It had taken several minutes for the pen to even move, and almost a quarter of an hour before Dan managed to get it to lift out of the inkwell, if only to flop onto the paper with an ink-splattered clatter. It wasn’t much, but it was something, especially after only one session. A week later, Dan could get the pen to balance on its nib, and within another week had it writing fluidly; rather than Dan having to focus and move it in the shape of the letter, now he only had to think the word and the pen would do it automatically.

It was a drastic improvement, and Mari was clearly impressed with his progress. Dan was proud of himself too. Considering that only a few weeks ago he hadn’t even known that witchcraft was a thing, he had taken a pretty big step since then to be moving objects with sheer willpower.

His university course was getting easier as well, but it was still a lot to fit in. Dan would often go to bed exhausted after his long days of classes and homework and practising magic, but despite his tiredness he would still lie awake long into the night, his thoughts buzzing with new knowledge and abilities, and the image of the unknown boy floating inexplicably in his subconscious.

*

Dan shut his textbook with a loud sigh and sat back in his seat, rubbing his hands over his face. That assignment had taken him almost a week to complete, but it was finally done and out of his hair; all that was left now was to hand it in, and then he could go home and try to catch up on all the sleepless nights he had spent working on this project.

Dan quickly packed his laptop back into his rucksack, looking around at the library full of stressed and overworked students. _Later, nerds._ Dan swung his rucksack over his shoulder, gathered up his books in his arms and left his table in the corner, walking quickly down the aisle between two bookshelves, eager to escape, but just as he rounded the corner -

_Wham!_

Dan stumbled backwards, his books tumbling to the ground. He shook his head, blinking, and found himself face-to-face with the black-haired drawing boy. His fringe was damp and flattened onto his forehead, and his pale skin was shiny with water droplets. His books and papers had also fallen, along with an open pencil case, and he quickly bent down to gather them up, scrabbling to pick up all the loose pages and pencils and avoiding Dan’s eye. Dan also crouched down and began to help.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pushing his own books aside to collect the boy’s papers and books. He paused, a small fake-leather journal in his hand. The sketchbook had fallen open when it was dropped, and the displayed double page was filled with an intricate drawing of a garden scape, complete with flowers and trees and a bench with two figures facing away from the ‘camera’ and towards the garden. The texture of the bark on the foreground trees was so realistic that for a moment all Dan could do was stare in awe.

His eyes were pulled upwards by the motion of the boy standing up, his papers, books and pencil case back in his arms and his eyes staring apprehensively at Dan. Dan quickly stood up and handed the boy his handful of papers and the sketchbook.

“That’s a really cool drawing,” he said, smiling encouragingly.

The boy stared at him for a split second. Then the corners of his mouth twitched upwards for a moment, and he nodded once in thanks before hurrying past Dan and away, deeper into the library.

Dan watched him go, then wandered out into the lobby of the building. He groaned when he saw the rain pelting the pavement outside, conscious of the fact that he hadn’t brought a coat. That gave him two options: one, go now and get soaked; or two, wait in the library for it to ease off - and maybe find the boy and talk to him…

He hesitated for only a moment before choosing option two and heading back to the library. He searched between the shelves in the direction the boy had gone, but he couldn’t find him anywhere; it was like he had just disappeared.

*

The next day was dry, but still grey and overcast - _and not just in terms of the weather,_ Dan thought as he slouched at the back of the lecture theatre. When the bell interrupted the professor’s ramble, there was the usual scramble to leave. Dan drifted along with the crowd, not really thinking about where he was going. He had about an hour and a quarter before his next lecture, and he was just wondering how to spend that time when he noticed a blur of black out of the corner of his eye. He turned quickly to look, and just caught a glimpse of the drawing boy hurrying down the corridor in the opposite direction, his head down and his arms hugging a bundle of books to his chest.

The boy disappeared around the corner, and Dan made the split second decision to follow him.

He seemed to be a lot faster at navigating the crowds than Dan was, because by the time he reached the corner the boy was just turning down another corridor about twenty metres away. Dan fought his way over, but once again the boy was faster, drifting down the busy halls effortlessly while Dan struggled with the flowing crowds of students. And so it repeated; each time Dan reached a junction, the boy was out of sight or just rounding the corner, and Dan would have to guess or jog to keep up.

Eventually, Dan lost the boy completely; there was no sign of him down any of the adjacent corridors, so Dan just guessed and kept going, deeper into the unfamiliar corners of the building. Every choice was a random pick, and Dan was beginning to lose hope that he would ever find the mysterious black-haired drawing boy.

But suddenly he was in a place he recognised, and Dan had an idea of where the boy might have gone.

He followed the corridors back along the route he had got lost down on his first day, trying to remember the way, his heart beating faster in the hope of finally catching up with the mysterious boy.

The courtyard appeared deserted, with the same flowers and tree in the centre. The benches around the trunk were the same, although slightly damp and littered with fallen helicopters; and once again, when Dan rounded the tree, the bench on the far side was occupied by a single sketching figure.

The boy was once again engrossed in his drawing. Dan didn’t want to startle him, so he approached slowly, waiting until he would be in the boy’s line of sight before speaking:

“Hi.”

The boy kept drawing for a moment, but as his pencil led him to the upper corner he caught sight of Dan’s shoes and jerked his head up, subtly hiding his paper with his arms.

“Can I sit with you?”

The boy blinked; then recognition flashed in his eyes, and he nodded slowly, picking up his stuff and shifting to one end of the bench. Dan gave him a small smile and slipped his rucksack off his shoulder, making sure there was a decent amount of space between himself and the boy as he sat down.

“What’s your name?” he asked gently.

The boy glanced up at his face to see Dan’s lips forming the last part of the sentence, and without speaking he just raised two fingers to touch his ear.

Dan frowned, not understanding. The boy looked down and flicked to the back page of his sketchbook, doing it quickly to hide what he had been drawing. He picked up his pencil and wrote four words in a scratchy, childlike hand: _I can’t hear you_.

“Oh.” Dan understood: the boy was deaf. Seeing Dan’s look of confusion about how to continue the conversation, the boy wrote something else and showed it to Dan: _I can usually read your lips if you speak clearly_.

“Ok, um...” The boy looked back up at Dan, focusing his attention subtly on Dan’s mouth. “What’s your name?” Dan asked again, speaking a little slower and enunciating more clearly (not that he could get much clearer with his posh Winnie the Pooh voice).

The boy paused for a brief, barely noticeable moment as he registered what Dan had said, and then picked up his pencil again: “Phil”. He looked back up at Dan and began signing with his hands, slowly, making each sign easily distinguishable: pointing with his left index finger and touching the tip to the side of a circle formed by his right index and thumb; laying the four fingers of his right hand on the palm of his left hand and swiping towards the tips of his left fingers; touching the tip of his right index to the tip of his left middle; laying his right index flat on the palm of his left hand. He then picked up his pencil again and underlined his name; it took Dan a second to realise that he had just spelled it: P-H-I-L.

Phil pointed at Dan: _‘And you?’_

“Dan,” Dad said. Phil frowned slightly, so Dan repeated himself. After a moment, Phil shook his head and handed Dan the pencil and sketchbook, grinning. Dan grinned back and wrote his name a little below Phil’s.

Phil took the sketchbook back and looked at what Dan had written, then signed it out: right index and thumb making the curve of the ‘D’ shape against his left index; laying his right index across the base of his left four fingers; touching his right index and middle to the palm of his left hand: D-A-N. He smiled at Dan, and Dan grinned back; he was enjoying talking with Phil.

They continued chatting for quite a while; about their courses, their families, life at uni, and other things. Soon, the last three and a bit pages of the sketchbook were filled with Phil’s side of the conversation, his scribbly writing occasionally interrupted by Dan’s scrawl when he’d had to clarify a word that Phil couldn’t lipread. They learned a lot about each other’s lives in that short first interaction, but there was one crucial detail that Dan was careful to keep hidden: the fact that he was learning witchcraft from his great-aunt.

When the bell went, they were both reluctant to leave their little zen garden to go to their next lectures. Before they parted ways down the corridors, Phil handed Dan a torn corner of sketch paper with his number on. As he did so, he gave Dan a semi-ironic “call me” gesture, to which they both giggled as Dan slipped the note into his back pocket.


	3. Chapter 3

It was amazing how easily they became part of each other’s lives. From that first time hanging out, it seemed as though they had been friends forever, and within a week or two neither could imagine a time without the other.

They spent every minute of their free time together, meeting up almost every day for breaks and lunches. Sometimes they went out to cosy cafes; other times they brought food and ate in the courtyard or some other secluded corner of the campus where they had it to themselves. They spent as much time as possible outside, only retreating to the busy library when the weather turned foul.

They chatted about their shared interests or their courses, and sometimes when he got tired of writing, Phil would try and teach Dan sign language. It took time to get used to, but Dan was determined to put in the effort for Phil.

They would often bring work and study together - or rather, Dan would work while Phil sat with his sketchbook, pencil scratching away at a drawing that Dan was never allowed to see. That was one thing Dan learned about Phil: his sketchbook was his escape, his personal world. The one time Dan had asked what he was drawing, Phil had closed up and hidden it, so Dan had never asked again, respectful of Phil’s fear of letting people in.

After all, Dan had his own secrets that he was keeping from Phil.

*

Dan fought his way down the busy corridor, heading out to the courtyard where he was due to meet Phil. It had been a long week, and a long Friday without any breaks, but at last all his lectures were finished and he could take the weekend off.

The corridor finally began to clear, and Dan felt a light hand on his lower back. He knew immediately that it was Phil; they had worked out this system for catching each other’s attention in the corridors, as Phil couldn’t call out and obviously wouldn’t hear Dan if it was the other way around.

Dan turned around, smiling. Phil grinned back at him, lifting his hand off Dan’s back. For once he was actually using his rucksack for its intended purpose instead of carrying all his books in his arms.

“Hey,” Dan greeted him. “You alright?”

Phil nodded. _‘Hungry?’_ he signed.

Dan grinned. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They ended up in one of their favourite regular cafes, sitting at a table by the window with a panini and bottle of Coke each. They ate in silence for a while, occasionally glancing up to meet each other’s eye with a smile.

Just as they were coming to the end of their meals, Phil happened to look up. Something outside caught his eye, and Dan frowned as the grin melted off his face.

“What is it?” he asked, leaning forward to look out the window. Phil shook his head and looked back down at his plate, blinking rapidly, his hands signing urgently: _L-U-K-A-S_. Within moments, a group of four boys roughly their age came into Dan’s line of sight, walking down the street towards the cafe from behind him. Dan stared as one of the boys met his gaze and nudged the others, pointing at Phil with a malicious grin on his acne-covered face. The others noticed what he was looking at and also smirked, and they immediately made a beeline for the cafe.

Dan looked back at Phil, frowning an unspoken question, but the black-haired boy was still fixated on his plate. They both jumped as one of the boys suddenly slammed into the window, making an ugly face and laughing at them through the glass as the group made their way into the cafe.

Phil’s back was to the door, but his shoulders tensed as it shut behind the boys and they made their way over to Dan and Phil’s table.

Dan followed Phil’s example and avoided looking at them, but as they towered over the table he couldn’t help but look up.

“What’s up, Cat-tongue?” the leader - a jock-type youth with dirty-blond hair, who Dan presumed was Lukas - taunted, leaning over Phil with one hand on the back of his chair and the other a few inches from his plate. Phil leaned away, breathing rapidly through his nose. “Having a nice date with your boyfriend?”

The lads launched into a chorus of ugly gang laughter. Phil glanced up just in time to catch the word ‘boyfriend’ falling from Lukas’s lips, and the bullies’ laughter only got louder when he quickly looked away again, blushing deeply.

“Leave him alone.” Dan’s voice was low and warning as he glared at Lukas.

The boys stopped laughing, waiting in bloodthirsty anticipation as their leader slowly turned to look at Dan. Slowly, he stood up to his full height, and slowly he moved to stand over Dan instead.

“Or what?” he challenged softly, threateningly. “What will you do to stop me?”

Dan shot to his feet, his chair legs scraping on the linoleum. He was an inch or two taller than the bully, and their eyes met as Dan stared down at him. The lads stepped back slightly, but before Dan could do anything one of the baristas came hurrying over.

“That’s it! You lot, out! You’re disturbing the other patrons.”

Lukas glanced around at the staring faces of many of the other customers, and Dan saw him swallow nervously.

“C’mon, boys,” he muttered to his friends. “It seems we’re not wanted here.” Dan sat back down as they turned to leave, but as the barista headed back to the counter he added quietly, “These freaks aren’t worth our time.”

Anger coursed through Dan’s veins, and he quickly muttered a spell under his breath.

Immediately all four of the boys lost their footing on the smooth floor, slipping over and landing heavily on their arrogant asses. Phil glanced around at the commotion as the whole cafe erupted in laughter, and he watched as the boys scrambled to their feet and hurried out of the cafe and away, their faces as red as beetroots.

The excitement settled down quickly, and Phil looked back at Dan with a faint frown of suspicion. Dan shrugged non-committedly and reached for his drink.

“Karma.”

He drained the bottle and nodded to Phil’s plate. “You done?”

Phil nodded and stood up, a smile pulling at his lips. _‘Do you want to come back to mine?’_ he signed.

Dan grinned and agreed, following the black-haired boy out of the cafe.

*

Phil’s dorm room was cosy and personalised, much more brightly coloured than the standard ones Dan had been shown on the open day. The walls were painted a happy blue, which combined with the soft green of the carpet to give the room an open landscape feel. A desk littered with books and pieces of paper bearing scribbled notes and half-finished sketches stood against the wall just in front of the door. Against the far wall was Phil’s loft bed, beneath which stood an easel with a blank canvas and a small bedside cabinet with books, a Pixar-style desk lamp and a mini artist’s mannequin. A tiny window allowed daylight into the den-like space, but the cactus perched on its sil was nevertheless looking somewhat worse for wear.

The floor space in front of the bed was taken up by a pile of pillows that served as seating for the small TV screen against the opposite wall, and perched atop the pillow mountain was a very well-loved stuffed toy of some kind of animal.

Dan slid his rucksack off his shoulder as he stepped into the room and looked around. Phil closed the door behind them and dropped his own bag beside the desk, watching Dan apprehensively as though waiting for his approval. Dan turned to look at him and grinned.

“Cool room.”

Phil smiled, relieved. _‘Thanks.’_

After a moment of silence, Dan spoke again: “So, uh, what’s this Lukas guy’s problem?”

Phil shrugged, looking at his feet as a blush crept up his cheeks. _‘He’s a thug. Lives somewhere in this block. Picked me out as a target just because. Thinks I’m just mute, or a coward. “Cat got my tongue”._

Dan nodded in sympathetic understanding. He turned to look around again, not quite sure what to do; Phil moved past him and indicated the cabinet that the TV sat on, which was stacked somewhat haphazardly with all different types of video games, a PS4 console and a Nintendo Switch.

_‘Pick one?’_ Phil signed, tilting his head slightly to one side. Dan grinned and knelt down next to the cabinet, scanning the titles and barely hesitating before picking up a box to show Phil.

Phil raised his eyebrows in a playful _are you sure?_ gesture, and Dan nodded definitively. A glint of challenge appeared in Phil’s blue eyes as he took the game from Dan and put it on, handing Dan a controller as he backed up to sit down on one of the pillows. _‘I warn you, I’m very good at this one,’_ Phil signed as the intro screen jingled to life.

Dan laughed. “Bet you can’t beat me, Lester! I’m the king of Mario Kart!”

_‘We’ll see about that!’_

*

It was almost ten o’clock before Dan finally set down his controller and stretched. Phil followed suit, yawning widely. They had given up on Mario Kart when endless blink-difference first and second places had made it impossible to prove who was the superior driver, and they had moved on to other games. But now several hours of staring at a blue screen in the dark had taken its toll on Dan’s exhausted eyes, and he stood up to leave.

“I should probably get going,” he said, starting to move towards the door. “Thanks for having me.” Phil stood up as well and raised his hands, pausing for a moment before signing a question:

_‘Are you sure? It’s quite late; you could stay the night if you wanted?’_

Dan blinked. “Really?”

Phil nodded, smiling hopefully.

“Thanks,” Dan grinned. Then, before Phil turned away, he added, “But I haven’t got anything to change into.”

Phil bit his lip for a second, thinking, and glanced around the room. _‘I could lend you some trousers?’_ he offered. Before Dan could reply, he flicked the light on and crossed to the chest of drawers beside the TV. He rummaged around for a second, then extracted a pair of joggers and held them out to Dan. Dan smiled gratefully and took them.

Phil smiled back, then crossed the room to his bed. He reached up and stuck his hand under the pillow, rummaging around for a second before pulling out his own pyjamas. _‘I’m going to the bathroom. You can get changed in here.’_ Dan nodded and thanked him again, and Phil left.

Dan quickly changed out of his ripped skinny jeans and pulled on the joggers instead; he also took off his sweater, then tossed both it and his jeans over his bag.

Phil came back a couple of minutes later, dumping his used clothes in his laundry basket in the corner and then crossing over to the ladder of his bed. At the bottom, he paused and turned to beckon to Dan, and then started climbing up. Dan blinked, frowning slightly. Phil knelt on the mattress and looked at Dan, tilting his head questioningly when he saw the brunet’s expression.

“Are you sure?” Dan asked, nodding to the bed.

Phil blinked, then quickly climbed down and grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen off his desk, scribbling a note rather than signing. He handed it to Dan, and Dan read it quickly:

_“You can sleep with me if you want, or if you rather I could get you another blanket and you could sleep on the floor - I don't mind”_

Dan looked up at Phil’s questioning expression and gentle smile, then he grinned and nodded. “Ok.”

Phil returned his grin, and jerked his head back towards the bed. This time, Dan followed him up the ladder, and they lay down together. Their arms just barely touched, leaving as much respectful space as possible that the width of the bed allowed. Phil reached to turn the light off, and for the briefest moment the room was plunged into total darkness.

Then Dan’s eyes adjusted, and a galaxy came to life above their heads.

The entire ceiling was covered in glow-in-the-dark shapes of stars and planets and moons that illuminated the room with faint greenish light. They were crude and cartoonishly shaped, but something about their careful arrangement and calming glow made them beautiful. Dan propped himself up on his elbows to look more closely, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He glanced over at the movement as Phil sat up next to him; his already pale skin looked smooth and alien in this light, and his eyes shone with the stars’ reflections.

_‘Do you like them?’_ he signed, his gestured muted as though imitating whispering.

“They’re amazing,” Dan replied softly.

_‘They help me sleep,’_ Phil explained, _‘make me feel safe.’_

Dan smiled, and they sat in silence for a little while, watching the simulated sky despite knowing that it would never move.

_‘Goodnight,’_ Phil signed, before lying down again: a thumbs-up tilting towards the centre of his chest, then both hands sweeping down.

_‘Goodnight,’_ Dan signed back, and soon they had both drifted off into a comforting sleep.

*

It was warm and peaceful, and Dan didn’t want to wake up. Even as sleep faded away, he kept his eyes closed, holding on to the feeling of calm.

Eventually, Dan opened his eyes, blinking blearily at his surroundings. The room was filled with soft yellow light that filtered through the windows and pooled on the floor, making the whole room glow. Dan shifted slightly as he looked around, but as he moved a soft huff drew his attention to the warm weight on his right side.

Phil was still asleep, his black hair falling across his face. His head was nestled against Dan’s neck, one arm thrown across Dan’s chest. Beneath the duvet, their legs were tangled together.

Dan paused for a minute, just watching him sleep. He looked so young and at peace, so beautiful, his skin glowing like an angel’s…

Dan moved carefully but quickly, trying not to disturb the sleeping boy as he extracted himself from Phil’s embrace and shuffled down the bed to the ladder. He climbed down and crossed to where he’d left his bag, and retrieved his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

_Oh fuck._

The clock said 10:13, but that wasn’t the problem; what was a problem were the four texts and two missed calls from Mari, asking where he was and telling him to call her and come home at once.

Dan quickly changed out of the borrowed trackeys and back into his jeans, pulling on his sweatshirt as well. He folded Phil’s trackeys and placed them on the desk, then crossed over to the bed and reached up over the railing and gently shook Phil’s shoulder.

Phil’s blue eyes blinked open, bright and sharp in the lit room. When he saw Dan, he sat up quickly, smiling questioningly.

“I’ve got to go,” Dan explained, signing as he spoke. His hands moved somewhat clumsily, but Phil didn’t mind. He just nodded and hurried to climb out of bed. The two boys embraced tightly, and both of them were smiling when they pulled apart. “Thanks for having me; it was fun.”

_‘You’re welcome,’_ Phil signed. _‘See you on Monday.’_

“See you on Monday.” Dan gave Phil a quick grin, then swung his bag onto his shoulder and moved towards the door. He glanced back and signed _goodbye_ , and then he was gone, pulling the door closed behind himself and leaving Phil standing in the centre of the room, watching after him.

*

It was almost noon by the time Dan got back to Mari’s house. He let himself in and closed the door quietly behind himself, but as he turned to face the stairs he stopped in his tracks.

Mari was sitting at the dining table, wreathed in her usual shawls and headscarves, staring directly at him with a stony glare. Jappa was perched on her shoulder, his shiny black eyes also fixed on Dan.

“Where have you been?” Mari asked; her voice was light, but it was tinged by a semi-threatening undertone.

“Sorry. I was with a friend, and it got late so he let me stay the night,” Dan explained, avoiding her gaze - there was something in her eyes that scared him slightly.

Mari didn’t reply. She merely narrowed her eyes and studied Dan as though trying to read something more in his body language or mind. Dan waited for a few seconds, then with another muttered ‘sorry’ he made to go upstairs. However, he only got about three steps before Mari’s voice called him back.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Dan blinked. “Um… my room?”

“I don’t think so, Daniel. You’re going to clean out my potion ingredient jars.”

Dan stared at her in disbelief. He leaned over the banister to see further into the kitchen; the floor between the counter island and the basement door was lined with rows of miscellaneous mason jars, varying in size from one to fifteen gallons, the glass of many of them smeared with grimy substances that Dan really didn’t want to know the origins of. He looked back at Mari.

“You can’t be serious?!”

“I am absolutely serious, Daniel. Your mother would kill me if anything happened to you; this is your punishment for scaring me like that.”

Dan groaned, but he reluctantly slunk back down the stairs and dumped his bag before crossing over to pick up the first jar. Mari stood up as he passed, speaking to the raven on her shoulder:

“Jappa, I’m leaving you to supervise - make sure he finishes.”

_‘Will do,’_ Jappa squawked, flying over to perch on the counter island and staring intensely at Dan.

“Oh, and Daniel,” Mari added, and Dan turned to look at her; “you might want to wear gloves.”

Dan glared helplessly after her as she drifted through to her study and closed the door sharply behind herself. Sighing heavily through his nose, Dan snatched up the thick leather gloves from beside the draining board and wrenched them on, turning his attention to the first of the thirty or so jars.

He worked in silence under Jappa’s relentless gaze for the time it took to finish off the first few jars. Some were so densely caked in grime that it took several minutes of aggressive scrubbing with the steel wool to shift it; others smelt so bad that he had to work one-handed, holding his sleeve over his mouth and nose to prevent himself from wanting to throw up. Each jar, depending on the size and degree of filth, took between three and twenty minutes, and by the time he had finished the fourth one his arms were already aching.

As Dan started on the seventh jar, Jappa dropped his supervising persona and looked down, scratching at the surface with one claw. _‘So… what_ were _you doing?’_

“I told you, I was with a friend,” Dan muttered, not bothering to look at the raven.

_‘Just a friend?’_ Jappa pressed after a pause.

“Yes! We just played some video games and then went to sleep - nothing _happened_ , bird!”

Jappa hopped away from him, ruffling his wings in his best imitation of a shrug. _‘Alright, no need to get snappy. I was just asking.’_

Dan didn’t reply, and the next two and a half hours passed in tense silence.

Finally, with the last of the jars spotless and sparkling, Dan threw the gloves and scourer in the sink and hurried upstairs, grabbing his bag on the way and leaving Jappa on the counter island. When he reached his bedroom, Dan collapsed onto his bed and simply lay there for a long while, his thoughts filled with images of Phil.

*

After Dan left, Phil got dressed and started his day, getting to work on an essay for an artist study. But he couldn’t concentrate.

Eventually, after around an hour of working on it with little significant progress, Phil gave up on homework for the time being and closed his laptop. He went to the kitchen to get some food, then came back to his room and sat on his bed to eat, thinking, his legs dangling over the edge.

He thought about what had happened with Lukas and his gang yesterday at the cafe, and wondered if there was some way that Dan could have been responsible for their humiliation. _No, surely that’s impossible..._ Phil turned his mind away from the incident. A few minutes passed while Phil finished his brunch, then he grabbed his sketchbook and a pencil and flicked to a new page, setting graphite to paper and beginning to draw.


	4. Chapter 4

Dan hurried down the deserted corridor, his bag bouncing against his back. He couldn’t afford to be late for any more lectures, especially with exams coming up…

“In a hurry to see Cat-tongue, are we?”

Dan stopped in his tracks, the taunt ringing in his ears. He knew that voice all too well. _That motherfucker..._

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone mute as well!” A burst of guffawing laughter, and four sets of footsteps coming up behind him. A hand was laid forcefully on his shoulder, and Dan spun around to face the smirking figures of Lukas and his friends.

Lukas stepped back slightly as Dan karate-chopped his hand off his shoulder. He tried to hold his tough stature, but Dan’s extra height and stormy glare made him shrink by comparison.

“Fuck. Off.” Dan’s voice was deadly quiet.

“Or what?” the thug taunted. “You wouldn’t do _shit_.”

Dan raised one eyebrow slightly, his mouth tightened into the very faintest hint of a furious smile as he shook his head subtly; _You have no idea._

“I dunno why you’d wanna hang out with a pussy like him,” Lukas muttered after a moment. “He’s worthless! Freaks like him deserve to die-”

Dan lost it. His bag slipped from his shoulder, the thunder in his eyes darkening. The gang stood their ground as he started towards them, but their expressions turned to ones of fear. Dan raised his hands and they scrambled backwards, but they had nowhere to hide. The force of Dan’s spell threw them down the corridor, where they fell and rolled to a stop, unconscious, their clothes and hair smoking slightly.

For a few seconds, Dan didn’t move. Then, he turned to grab his bag and go, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw the person watching him.

Phil stood a few metres away, a terrified expression on his face as his eyes flicked from the slumped forms of his tormentors to Dan. They stared at each other, unsure what to do.

“Phil,” Dan murmured, “I can explain...” He started to speak, but the bell interrupted him. “Meet me at our usual spot behind the science block after class,” he said urgently. “I promise, I’ll explain everything.”

For a moment, Phil didn’t answer. Then he nodded once, and was gone, leaving Dan to hurry on to his lecture wondering if he might have ruined their friendship forever.

*  
Dan’s palms were sweating as he made his way around the back of the science block. _What if Phil didn’t come? Would he tell anyone? Would Dan be hunted like an animal and burned at the stake?_ Dan had to remind himself that public executions were no longer a thing in England, and that even if Phil did tell anyone they likely wouldn’t believe him, but still…

His worries were alleviated slightly when he rounded the corner to see Phil sitting with his back against the concrete wall as he usually did. The black-haired boy would normally be busy with his sketchbook, but today he just sat, forearms resting on his knees, staring forwards as his hands twisted together absently.

Dan took a deep breath and approached slowly. As he came within Phil’s line of sight, Phil looked up at him, but surprisingly there was no judgement or fear in his expression; he was calm and passive, waiting expectantly for what Dan had to say.

Phil’s rucksack rested on the grass by his feet; Dan dropped his own bag beside it and slid down the wall to sit next to Phil, leaving slightly more space between them than usual. Phil watched his face, expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” Dan said eventually, after a moment of unfamiliar awkward silence. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, to keep it a secret.”

He paused, and Phil took the opportunity to sign one word: _‘How?’_

Dan glanced around to check that they weren’t going to be overheard, but there was no-one in sight. He looked back at Phil, his face serious but gentle. “I’m a witch,” he explained. “So’s my great-aunt; she teaches me in between uni work.” Dan looked around again, anywhere but Phil’s frustratingly enigmatical eyes. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how you’d react and… I don’t want to lose you.”

For several painful seconds, Phil didn’t respond. Then a small smile pulled at his lips; _‘I forgive you,’_ he signed.

Dan sighed with relief, grinning. “Thank you.”

_‘Show me?’_ Phil asked, tilting his head to one side. Dan nodded and glanced around, wondering what to do to show his magic. After a moment of consideration, he held out his hand, palm upwards, and murmured a spell.

Immediately flames leapt to life, playing around his fingers like a pleasant summer breeze. Phil’s eyes shone as he stared, mesmerized, at the fire. Dan smiled, and as he concentrated the flames began to take shape; of a majestic phoenix, a loping wolf, a leaping rabbit, and more.

At last the flames faded, and Dan’s arm dropped as he slumped, panting lightly, against the concrete; that much magic had drained him a lot.

Phil raised his hands again. _‘In the cafe, with Lukas, when they fell over - was that you as well?’_

Dan smiled and nodded. “I didn’t like how they were treating you, and they needed to be taught a lesson.”

_‘Thank you,’_ Phil signed, smiling back slightly bashfully.

Dan reached out and took Phil’s hand, not to restrict him from talking but to show support and companionship. “Of course. You’re my best friend; I’ll always be there to watch out for you.”

*

They skipped the rest of their lectures that afternoon and caught the first bus back to Mari’s. While Phil sat by the window, watching the world go by, Dan sent a quick text to Mari telling her that he was bringing a friend home, as she had asked him to. She didn’t reply, however; nor was she there when Dan unlocked the door and called out into the empty house.

They headed straight upstairs - all three flights - to Dan’s room in the attic. He opened the door slightly hesitantly and led Phil inside.

Immediately, Phil crossed over to the window seat and perched on the edge of the red cushion, dropping his bag on the floor, looking around the room curiously and taking in the view out of the porthole. Dan dumped his own bag beside the desk and kicked his shoes off, then joined Phil on the window seat, smiling as he sat down opposite the black-haired boy.

They sat in silence for a little while, then Phil asked: _‘How long have you been learning magic?’_

“Only since I came to live with Mari,” Dan answered. Phil nodded and looked around the room again, blank-faced. Dan did the same, and his gaze fell on Phil’s rucksack.

His foot moved forward to nudge Phil’s knee, to get his attention. Phil glanced at Dan and followed his gaze to the bag, a slightly confused frown creasing his forehead. Dan raised one hand towards the bag, concentrating as he murmured a spell under his breath.

The bag shivered; its straps shook like tentacles for a moment, then the bag stood up, using its straps as legs. Phil glanced back at Dan, interested. Dan muttered another command and, still with his hand outstretched like he was operating a marionette, the backpack began to dance.

It was by no means elegant; it looked like a lumpy blob with oddly articulated sick legs, but nevertheless it pranced around the room in circles, leaping and pirouetting and cartwheeling in a somewhat clumsy manner. Phil found it hilarious, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter, face scrunched up adorably with a wide tongue-between-teeth grin.

Dan wondered if Phil realised that laughing was supposed to make a sound.

Then the backpack tripped over its own strap and fell, breaking the spell and spilling Phil’s books across the floor, including his black leather sketchbook.

Phil’s smile faded as he stared down at the little black book, not moving or making any effort to tidy up the mess.

“Sorry,” Dan apologised, leaning down and starting to gather the fallen books back into the bag. He stopped when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder; Phil pulled him back and bent down to pick up the sketchbook.

He set the journal on his lap and looked at it for a moment, fiddling with the elastic band that held it closed. Eventually, he looked up and met Dan’s eyes. _‘I want to show you something,’_ he signed; the gestures were small and uncertain, like a murmur.

Dan opened his mouth to reply, but before he could he heard the sound of the front door opening, and then Mari’s voice calling him up three flights of stairs. Dan looked at Phil and touched his knee lightly.

“I do want to see,” he told Phil, “but I need to talk to Mari first. I’ll come see after that; then I can appreciate it fully.”

Phil blinked, then smiled slightly and nodded. Dan stood up and offered the other boy a hand; Phil took it and followed him out of the room, leaving the sketchbook on the window seat.


	5. Chapter 5

Mari was fussing in the kitchen, sorting groceries on the counter and pulling pots out of the cupboards. Her back was to the stairs.

“Daniel, would you set the dining room table for seven, please?” she called over her shoulder when she heard footsteps creak on the wooden floorboards.

“Why?” Dan asked, confused. Phil stayed close behind him, half-hidden.

“It’s the witches’ gathering! Don’t you remember? I told you last night,” Mari answered, still with her back to them; she sounded stressed.

“Um, I’m pretty sure you didn’t,” Dan said slowly.

Mari sighed exasperatedly and turned around, her mouth open, about to explain it to him. Her voice died when she saw Phil.

“Who are you?” she asked Phil angrily, before turning on Dan. “What is he doing here without my permission?”

“This is Phil; he’s a friend,” Dan explained calmly. “It was kinda spontaneous, but I did text you.”

“Oh you did, did you?” Mari fumbled with her phone to check.

Dan took advantage of her moment of silence. “He already knows about the witchcraft,” he added, slightly wary of Mari’s reaction.

Mari found the text Dan had sent her and read it quickly, muttering “Oh, so you did,” as she put her phone away. Then she looked up at Dan, her eyes smouldering. “How many times have I told you, you cannot tell _anyone_ about our craft! There will always be those who would see us burned, or worse! Maj-less are not to be trusted!”

“Oh, is that what we call them?!” Dan retorted loudly. “Besides, he saw me do magic anyway so I couldn’t exactly hide it from him.”

Mari was silent for several seconds, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed, her posture relaxing. “That was careless of you, Daniel,” she said quietly, “but I understand why you had to tell him. You must be more careful in future, and I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone else - especially without discussing it with me first.” She turned on Phil, who subtly shuffled closer to Dan. “And as for you, I want you to promise that you will never speak of this to _anyone_ ; is that understood?”

Phil nodded quickly. He raised his hands, touched his index finger to his mouth then rested his open hand perpendicular on his other palm: _‘Promise.’_

Mari looked at him strangely for a second; Dan worried that she might say something offensive. Then she just gave Phil a small smile, and shooed the two of them upstairs to set the table.

*

The scents and sounds of Mari’s cooking drifted up to them as Dan and Phil laid out the silverware and glasses on the table. They had fun imagining what she might be making, joking about gross-sounding witchy concoctions - like boiled frogs or eyeball stew - that made them grimace and giggle.

Once they were done setting the table, Mari called them back downstairs.

Several pots and pans were bubbling away on the stove when they reached the kitchen, filling the room with steam. Vegetables were chopping themselves in mid-air over the counter island, upon which Jappa was hopping around and ‘helping’ by eating the discarded cuttings. Phil looked around at the magic with an expression of subtle awe, which Dan noticed and found adorable.

“Right,” Mari said, turning around from the stove. “Could you two supervise while I go and get ready?”

Dan and Phil nodded, moving to take her place by the counter. Mari hurried past them and up the stairs, leaving Jappa on the island.

Dan directed the sliced vegetables into a pot of boiling water, then stood at the stove, stirring the various pans and making sure that their contents didn’t boil over or burn. The biggest pot was filled with some kind of stew, which fortunately didn’t appear to contain any eyeballs.

Jappa had abandoned the remains of the vegetables and flown over to perch on Phil’s shoulder. Phil stood apprehensively still as the raven nibbled at his hair and ear, but soon smiled and became confident enough to reach up and stroke the bird. Jappa welcomed the attention and continued investigating Phil, giving Dan a running commentary of his opinions.

_‘I like this one,’_ he told Dan, _‘His hair’s the same colour as me.’_

Phil gave no indication that he could hear Jappa’s thought-speech, but he seemed to enjoy the raven’s presence nonetheless. As Jappa hopped up on top of his head, Phil looked at Dan and signed a question: _‘What’s his name?’_

_‘J-A-P-P-A,’_ Dan signed, grinning. Phil smiled and repeated the signs, turning his head towards the raven as Jappa hopped down onto his other shoulder. Jappa paused to watch as Phil signed his name again, then fluttered onto Phil’s wrist and cawed softly at him. Phil’s smile widened as he lifted his other hand to stroke Jappa with the back of one finger. Dan grinned fondly as he watched Phil’s gentle interactions with the raven, then quickly turned his attention back to the stove before Phil noticed.

Ten minutes later, Mari came back downstairs wearing an elegant embroidered shawl over a shimmering green and purple dress that mimicked Jappa’s feathers when they caught the light. When he saw her, the raven abandoned Phil and flew over to land on Mari’s shoulder.

“Right,” Mari said, looking around in a slightly flustered manner. “They’ll be here any minute now. Daniel, take Phil back upstairs; make sure he stays there, and don’t let anyone know he’s here.”

Dan nodded and gestured for Phil to follow him. Just as they reached the first floor, there was a knock at the front door. Dan paused, looking back over his shoulder, but Mari shooed them on up the stairs, waiting until they were out of sight before opening the door and enthusiastically welcoming her guests.

*

Dan and Phil sat back down on the window seat in silence, looking out of the circular window down to the driveway below where an unfamiliar sleek black car was parked next to Mari’s blue Fiat.

“You’re not in a hurry to get home, are you?” Dan checked after a few minutes. Phil shook his head, giving Dan a friendly smile.

“Daniel! Could you come down here, please?”

Dan sighed when he heard Mari’s call, standing up reluctantly and starting towards the door. Phil tilted his head questioningly, and Dan explained that Mari wanted him back downstairs.

_‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’_ he signed. _‘Wait for me here.’_

Phil watched him leave. Once the door had closed behind him, Phil picked up his sketchbook and turned to a new page, rummaging in his backpack for a pencil and starting to draw.


	6. Chapter 6

When Dan got back down to the kitchen, he found Mari talking to three other women, all of them dressed in similarly eccentric clothing and copious amounts of jewellery. On the shoulder of one perched a tiny Scops owl, and another had a war-torn grey tabby winding around her ankles.

“This is Daniel,” Mari told the other witches as Dan joined them, “my apprentice and great-nephew.” The three women and Dan greeted each other, then Mari turned to address Dan. “Daniel, would you watch the food while I show our guests through to the dining room, please?”

Mari led the three witches upstairs, and Dan crossed the room to stand beside the stove. Jappa flew over and landed on the counter island, searching for any tidbits that he might have missed.

“So, who are they?” Dan asked him, referring to the other witches.

Jappa looked up at him. _‘Well, there’s Judy with Kass - that’s the cat; I don’t like her - then there’s Bernadette and Solda, the owl, and finally Fiona.’_

“Doesn’t Fiona have a familiar?”

Jappa blinked and tilted his head. _‘No; not everyone does. It depends.’_

Dan was about to ask “On what?”, but he was interrupted by another loud knock. He and Jappa watched as Mari came hurrying back down the stairs and opened the front door to admit another two women.

As Mari closed the door behind them, Dan noticed that one of the witches was accompanied by a pure white raven, who stood with her head held high on the witch’s hat. Jappa made a strange sound like a frog being stepped on and fluttered up onto Dan’s shoulder, his claws digging in.

“Harry won’t be coming, I’m afraid,” the other witch was telling Mari. “Some kind of issue with Bale.”

“Oh dear,” Mari said, “I hope he’s not in too much trouble.” She gestured to Dan. “This is my apprentice and great-nephew, Daniel.”

“Hi,” Dan called, grinning awkwardly. The two newcomers returned his greeting, and Mari led them upstairs to join the others.

“Who are they?” Dan asked Jappa, turning his head slightly to look at the raven out of the corner of his eye.

Jappa ruffled his feathers. _‘Um… that’s Debbie - she doesn’t have a familiar either - and Sam with, uh… Salema…’_ He trailed off and quickly turned away to groom one wing.

Dan grinned. “Ooh, has someone got a crush on Salema?” he asked jokingly.

Jappa huffed loudly and took off, digging his claws into Dan’s shoulder and smacking him in the head with one wing as he did so. The raven landed on the far side of the counter island, keeping his back to Dan and his head hunched. _‘I do not.’_

Dan raised his eyebrows. “You so do.”

_‘I don’t!’_

“He does,” Mari interrupted, having come downstairs just in time to hear the end of their conversation. “He’s terrible at hiding it, I keep telling him to just go for it.”

_‘Shut up!’_ Jappa squawked.

Mari shot Dan an amused look. She approached the stove and held out her hands either side of the pot of stew, not touching it. She muttered a spell and raised her hands, and the pot levitated with the motion, up off the stove and ahead of Mari towards the stairs. “Daniel, would you bring the vegetables and the basket of bread?”

As Dan made to follow her, Jappa stopped him.

_‘You accuse me of having a crush,’_ the raven said steadily, _‘but what about you and Phil?’_

“What?” Dan blinked, frowning. “No, there’s nothing between us; we’re just friends!”

Jappa said nothing more, but his black eyes glinted as he watched Dan out of sight up the stairs.

Dan set the bowl of vegetables and the basket of bread on the dining table where Mari indicated, and looked around the room: the six witches were seated down the long sides of the table, leaving the end space free presumably for their friend who now couldn’t come; Mari stood at her place at the head of the table, preparing to dish out the stew; the grey cat, Kass, was lounging on the windowsill behind her mistress, Judy; Solda the owl had settled on top of the dresser in the corner, glaring sullenly at the gathered witches through his bright orange eyes; Salema was sat on a wall-mounted perch above Sam’s head.

“So, Daniel,” Fiona said, as Mari began loading her plate with stew. “How is your witchcraft coming along?”

“Uh, yeah, alright,” Dan muttered, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jappa fly into the room and land on one of the other wall perches, eyeing Salema and ruffling his feathers.

“I would love to see a demonstration of your skills,” Judy interjected, giving him a smile that was apparently intended to be friendly but instead came across as slightly condescending and sarcastic.

“Uh...”

“Perhaps after dinner,” Mari interrupted.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed, catching on. “I’ve got quite a lot of homework to do. Maybe later.”

Once all six of the witches had been served, Mari passed the (now considerably lighter) pot to Dan.

“Put that back on the stove, would you please, Daniel,” she told him. “There are plates in the cupboard; do help yourself to some.” She looked at him pointedly as though saying _take some for Phil too._

Dan nodded and carried the pot back downstairs to the kitchen and set it on the stove with a metal-on-metal _clunk_. He retrieved two cereal bowls from the cupboard (he figured that bowls would be easier than plates) and dished out a portion each for himself and Phil. After sticking a spoon in each bowl, Dan carried them upstairs to his room.

*

Phil’s head was bent low over the sketchbook balanced on his knees, his hand moving quickly and carefully over the page. Dan nudged the door closed behind himself and crossed towards the window, a bowl in each hand. When he came into Phil’s line of sight, the black-haired boy startled and hurriedly shut the sketchbook. Dan gave him one of the bowls along with a small smile, then sat down opposite him on the window seat.

The two of them ate in silence. Occasionally, they glanced up at each other and made brief eye contact and smiled, but they would quickly look away again to concentrate on their food.

Once they had both finished, Dan took Phil’s bowl and stacked it on top of his own before setting both of them on the floor beside the window seat. He looked up at Phil, whose long, slender fingers were playing with the well-worn binding of his sketchbook.

“What were you drawing?” he asked casually, signing as he spoke.

A hint of pink appeared on Phil’s cheeks, and for a moment he wouldn’t meet Dan’s eye. Then he looked up at his friend and smiled, shifting over to make space for Dan beside him. Dan grinned and moved to sit next to him, and Phil opened the sketchbook.

Instead of turning straight to what he had been drawing that day, Phil started right at the beginning, flipping through the slightly crinkled pages to show Dan images of animals, humans, plants, objects and all sorts of other subjects in a variety of different mediums: biro, watercolour, marker, fineliner, coloured pencil and, most predominantly, ordinary graphite. Dan watched in silent admiration as the worlds flipped past, all contained within one small book and created by one extremely talented young man - Dan’s best friend, sitting next to him and sharing this intimate part of himself that rested across their pressed-together legs.

Eventually, they came to the most recent page. Phil paused briefly before turning the page, and there was a strange nervousness in his body language as he revealed his newest creation.

Dan stared, eyes wide and mouth open in awe; the entire double spread was taken up by a single graphite illustration, but the amount of intricate detail contained within the one piece was nothing short of incredible. It was clear that Phil had put a lot of time and effort into this one picture in particular.

The sketch showed a figure who was unmistakably Dan, but a more perfect and angelic version that had none of the flaws Dan himself regularly saw in the mirror. In the drawing, he sat alone on the very same window seat where real-life Dan and Phil sat now, looking out of the circular window with a deep and almost unreadable expression on his face, as though he knew the secrets of the universe itself. His posture was relaxed and open; the whole drawing seemed to emanate an air of peacefulness and tranquillity.

Dan had no words. He told Phil so, and his enraptured expression as he regarded the picture brought a relieved smile to the artist’s face.

_‘You like it?’_ he asked, his gestures small like a whisper, like he was scared of breaking some kind of spell much more powerful than any witch’s magic.

“I love it,” Dan breathed. He turned to look at Phil so that the black-haired boy could read his lips, and found that their faces were barely six inches apart. For a minute, he just stared into those shining blue eyes, and Phil stared back. Dan’s gaze flicked down for the briefest second, then back up again. “Thank you for showing me,” he murmured.

Phil smiled and nodded subtly: _‘You’re welcome.’_

Carefully, Dan replaced the ribbon bookmark between the pages; he took one last look at the lovingly created image, and then gently closed the sketchbook and pulled the elastic strap into place around it, to hold it shut and protect the worlds inside.

Phil took the book back and held it like a treasured heirloom against his chest with one arm. His other hand rested on his knee, and on a spur-of-the-moment impulse, Dan reached forward and took it in his own. Their fingers intertwined, and a fond smile passed between them.


	7. Chapter 7

Dan hurried past the first floor landing on his way down to the kitchen, carrying his and Phil’s dirty bowls in one hand. The plates from the witches’ dinner were stacked beside the sink, washing themselves one by one and gradually transferring over to the drying rack. Dan added the bowls to the unwashed pile and then headed back upstairs.

He tried to pass the first floor quickly again, but as he passed the lounge a voice called him in.

“Ah, Daniel. Do you have a moment to show us your magic?”

Dan backtracked to look into the room; all six witches were gathered in various armchairs that had been conjured alongside the original two. It was Judy who had spoken, Kass sitting slightly hunched on one arm of her chair. Dan glanced at Mari, who inclined her head towards a space between the crackling fireplace and the coffee table.

Sightly reluctantly, Dan crossed the room to stand where Mari had indicated. All the witches’ and familiars’ eyes were on him - except for Jappa, who was still very interested in Salema.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked self-consciously.

“Show us everything you have learned!” Debbie said loudly; a couple of the other witches laughed.

Dan looked at Mari.

“Why don’t you start with some simple locomotics?” she suggested, leaning back in her chair.

Dan nodded and thought for a moment, rubbing his hands together. The room was silent, watching him. Dan looked around, then extended one hand out to the wall of bookshelves and muttered a spell. Books began floating off the shelves towards him, and within seconds there were around twenty tomes hovering in the air. Dan directed them onto the coffee table, concentrating intensely as the books stacked themselves on the narrow wooden surface

As the last book balanced itself delicately atop the complex, impossible tower, the witches broke out into a short burst of applause, looking impressed. Dan focused on the books and gestured with his hands as though deconstructing the tower, and the books followed his motions. Growing more confident, Dan muttered another spell; the books began to dance and fly through the air, flipping neatly back into their places on the shelves.

Or at least, that’s what Dan intended to happen; in reality, it wasn’t quite that elegant. Instead, the books yeeted towards the shelves as though they had been thrown by someone having a tantrum, almost decapitating Bernadette and sending Solda flapping across the room with an angry screech.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Dan said, helping the witch back onto her chair as Mari waved one hand to put the books away properly.

“Don’t worry about it, dear, I’m fine,” Bernadette assured him, smiling. “It takes practice, that’s all.”

Dan grinned guiltily at her and stepped back to his place in front of the fire.

“Do you know any elemental magic, Dan?” Sam asked. She seemed a lot younger than most of the other witches, closer to Dan’s age than Mari's. Her chair was further back in the shadows, Salema’s white feathers the only point of light on her mistress’s knee.

Dan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his head bowed. He swirled his hands together in front of his chest, slowly at first before picking up speed. He murmured a spell under his breath and opened his eyes, staring intently at his moving hands. A ball of fire sparked to life within the sphere of motion, glowing violently and lighting Dan’s face eerily from below. Wind blew around him, fluttering his clothes and hair and those of the witches. The orb began to grow, bigger and stronger, the outer flames licking at Dan’s now trembling hands as Dan struggled to contain it.

“Daniel-” Mari started to say, but she didn’t get to finish: it was too much energy for Dan’s inexperienced power to control, and the orb exploded.

Pieces of flaming shrapnel shot across the room in all directions, and many of the witches would have been hit had they not engaged their own magic to deflect the shards. Familiars flew and leapt erratically around the room, adding to the chaos. One flaming shard shot towards the door, where a tall, pale figure had to duck to avoid it.

Kass was the first to notice the figure; in the half-second of silence that followed the explosion, her loud hiss alerted the witches to the intruder, and every eye in the room turned towards the door.

“Who are _you?_ ” Judy demanded, pointing a threatening finger at Phil.

Dan hurried over to stand beside his friend, taking up a protective position as the black-haired boy tried to shrink into the wall. “He’s a friend,” Dan explained, facing the witches. “He won’t tell anyone,” he added quickly, his tone panicked as Judy’s finger sparked at them.

“You let your apprentice reveal us to a _Maj-less?_ ” Debbie hissed, turning on Mari. “Have you no shame? He will expose us all!”

“Daniel trusts him,” Mari interrupted. “And if Daniel trusts him, so do I.” Her voice was assertive and challenging; the tensed witches started to relax slightly, albeit reluctantly.

“He should never have known in the first place!” Fiona growled. “We should erase his memory!”

“No!” Dan moved in front of Phil, reaching his arms around and behind to shield the other boy.

“What’s done is done,” Mari shouted. “You are guests in my house, and I will not allow you to hurt this boy.”

Several long, tense moments passed; Dan could feel Phil trembling slightly against his back.

At last Fiona inclined her head in admittance and stepped back, leading the others to follow suit, but Dan could still sense the anger burning behind their eyes.

“Very well.”

“I will assure you,” Mari added, “that Daniel knows not to reveal us to anyone else - and that there will be consequences if he does.” Her brown eyes smouldered, piercing Dan’s even from across the room.

Dan broke away from her gaze. He turned on the spot and grabbed Phil’s hand, pulling him hurriedly back up the stairs.

 _‘What were you doing downstairs?’_ Dan asked, once they were back in the relative safety of his bedroom. His signs were messy and rushed.

 _‘Thudding,’_ Phil signed. _‘Didn’t know what was happening. And I wanted to see your magic.’_

Dan nodded and sighed, giving Phil a reassuring smile as he ran his fingers frustratedly through his own hair. After a moment, he said; “You should probably go.”

Phil blinked and lowered his head, nodding sadly.

“It’s not that I don’t want you here,” Dan assured him, bending closer so that Phil could see and read his lips. “But I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Phil nodded again, looking up to meet Dan’s eyes. _‘I’m sorry for getting you in trouble,’_ he signed. He bent down to pick up his rucksack, shoving his sketchbook and pencil away before zipping it up and swinging it over his shoulder. Dan smiled at him, and Phil returned it. Then, he followed Dan back downstairs.

As they reached the first floor landing, Phil stopped outside the lounge door, putting a hand on Dan’s arm to get his attention. Dan turned around, confused, but Phil wasn’t looking at him; his gaze was fixed on the witches.

Mari was the first to notice him, her chair being positioned with the best view of the door, and paused what she was saying, returning Phil’s gaze. The other witches turned around to see what she was looking at, and their expressions hardened when they saw Phil.

 _‘I’m sorry that I learned your secret,’_ Phil signed, looking around at the witches. _‘I swear on my life that I will not tell anyone.’_

A few of the witches looked at Dan, who took a moment to realise that they didn’t understand. He translated for them, word for word, his eyes on Phil stood beside him. Phil glanced at him and subtly nodded his thanks, smiling faintly.

None of the witches responded. No-one moved for several moments, watching Phil with a variety of unreadable expressions.

At last, Dan broke away from the standoff; he touched Phil’s wrist to get his attention, then led him down the stairs to the front door.

Dan could hear the witches talking quietly as Phil opened the door and turned back to face him.

 _‘Goodbye,’_ he signed, not meeting Dan’s eyes.

“Do you want me to drop you home?” Dan asked, but Phil shook his head. He smiled at Dan, more brightly this time, and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the brunet boy and hugging him tightly. Dan returned it, and for a minute they just stood like that in silence.

Then Phil stepped away. His blue eyes sparkled as he gave Dan one last smile, and then he was gone, swallowed by the night-time shadows of the hedges.

Wearily, Dan trudged back upstairs. On his way past, he briefly glanced into the lounge; the witches fell silent when they saw him, and watched him go. Once he was out of sight, they continued talking in hushed voices that Dan couldn’t hear, but could still guess what they were saying.


	8. Chapter 8

Nothing had changed when they got back to uni the next day. They met up and hung out as usual in their various cubbies around the campus, but now they spent more time in private at Phil’s dorm. They made an unspoken agreement not to go to Dan’s for a while, and they made sure that Dan didn’t stay overnight at Phil’s, always getting back to Mari’s by eleven at the latest.

A couple of weeks later, after getting takeaway lunch from a local cafe and spending a pleasant couple of hours having a picnic in the park, Dan took the risk and invited Phil back to Mari’s house for the first time since the incident with the witches. He worried that Phil would refuse, but to his relief Phil agreed with a happy smile, which Dan returned before standing up and helping the black-haired boy take their rubbish to the bin.

*

Mari was in the kitchen when they arrived. She was busy with the kettle, her back to the door, but she turned around to face them as they paused to remove their shoes.

“Hello, Daniel.”

“Hi.”

“And Phil.” Mari paused briefly, making Dan and Phil tense. “It’s nice to see you again.” Phil relaxed and smiled nervously, signing a greeting. “Would either of you like a cup of tea?” Mari added, turning back to the kettle.

“No thanks,” Dan said; Phil shook his head politely.

They headed up to Dan’s room and settled on the bed, cuddled together with Dan’s laptop resting across their thighs, and pulled up one of the animes that they were currently in the middle of watching. They enjoyed watching anime together; in addition to it being one of their many shared interests, Dan liked having to read the subtitles - it made him feel more equal to Phil.

They binged for several hours as the daylight faded outside, and eventually the only light in the room came from the blue flashing screen.

A knock on the door made Dan jump, which in turn made Phil jump as Mari pushed the door open and stuck her head in.

“Ooh, it’s very dark in here, isn’t it?” She flicked the switch on, and Dan and Phil blinked in the sudden brightness.

“Mari!” Dan complained, shielding his eyes.

“Oh, stop complaining, Daniel; it’s no wonder you’re so pale if this is how you spend your time.” Mari waited for the two boys to adjust to the light, then addressed Phil: “Are you staying for dinner, Phil?”

Phil glanced at Dan, who smiled. Phil looked back at Mari and, slightly apprehensively, nodded and signed his thanks. Mari smiled at the two of them.

“It will be ready in ten,” she told them.

Once she had left, Dan waved his hand to turn the light off again and they returned to the anime.

When they headed downstairs ten minutes later, Mari was setting four portions of bangers and mash on the table - one of which was much smaller and placed in front of Jappa’s perch. They sat down to eat, and after a few minutes Mari paused and addressed Phil.

“I must apologise for the way my peers treated you the other night,” she said. “We work hard to keep our powers secret; many of my friends are much older than me, and a couple still remember the days when we would have been burned for our gifts. You mustn’t take their words to heart; you are welcome here anytime.”

She smiled at him. Phil’s eyes widened in surprise, but he returned her smile and thanked her, his eyes shining as he did so.

They finished eating quickly, and once the plates had all been stacked beside the sink and Mari had cast a spell to set them to wash themselves up, she turned to Dan and Phil and announced with a stifled yawn that she was going to retire for the night.

“There are spare sheets and an expandable mattress in the laundry room if Phil needs them,” she told Dan, with a glint in her eyes that suggested she didn’t expect Phil to need them. She then left them in the kitchen and headed upstairs, Jappa swooping after her with a brief _‘G’night’_ to Dan and Phil.

Once Mari and her familiar had disappeared, Dan took a minute to rummage around in one of the cupboards for some snacks, emerging with a bag of chocolate-chip cookies which they took with them back upstairs.

The anime binge continued long into the night. Finally, with the cookie bag empty except for a few crumbs and their eyes itching from tiredness, they decided that it was time to stop. Dan sat up and swung his legs off the bed, brushing the cookie crumbs off his chest as he did so; his phone clock read 02:17. Dan stood up and turned the light on with a wave of his hand, crossing over to look through his chest of drawers. Phil, blinking in the harsh brightness, closed down Dan’s laptop and leaned it against the nightstand. He looked over at Dan, and a smile pulled at his lips as the brunet turned around with a pair of trackeys in his hand.

“I assume you’re gonna be sleeping over at this point?” Dan grinned, tucking the joggers under his arm to sign. Phil nodded and smiled wider; he stood up and approached Dan, who handed him the trackeys and directed him downstairs to the bathroom to wash before bed.

When Phil returned, Dan had swapped the main ceiling light for a more friendly lamp on his nightstand, and was sitting on the edge of his bed scrolling through his phone, wearing nothing but a pair of football shorts. He had also swept the stray crumbs off the mattress and disposed of the empty cookie bag.

As Phil entered, Dan looked up and smiled, setting his phone down on the nightstand as Phil dropped his clothes beside his backpack and approached the bed. Dan let Phil climb in first, knowing that the black-haired boy preferred to be next to the wall, then snuggled up next to him, reaching out his right arm around Phil’s shoulders, letting Phil cuddle up to his right side.

Dan waved his hand to turn the lamp off, but as the room descended into darkness he felt Phil tense against him, his breathing fast and anxious against Dan’s bare shoulder. Dan hugged him closer, then, after a moment’s thought, muttered a spell under his breath.

Slowly, Phil looked up. His breathing calmed, and a look of awed wonder settled on his face as he gazed around the room.

Stars glittered across the walls, hanging in the air like another layer of reality; galaxies swirled mesmerizingly on the blue and purple marbled ceiling; the rest of the room became fainter behind the illusion, fading into the background, less solid than the magic all around them.

This was far, _far_ superior to Phil’s cheap glow-in-the-dark universe back in his dorm room; Dan’s spell actually made them feel as though they were floating peacefully through space, away from all the worries of the mortal human world, transcendent of the passage of time.

The stars reflected in Phil’s sparkling eyes like diamonds on the surface of the sea; so beautiful did he look in that moment that Dan never wanted to look away for fear of never again seeing this angelic and mysterious side of him. At last Phil met his gaze, and the smile he gave Dan was full of more fondness, love and thanks than could ever be expressed by words or signs. Dan smiled back at him, and Phil nestled down to sleep, his head tucked against Dan’s neck.

Dan’s own eyes began to slide shut; so tired was he that he couldn’t have kept them open if he’d tried. Just before he drifted off to sleep, Dan thought he felt soft lips press gently against his collarbone - then peace swallowed him, and the world was nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

Over the next couple of months, Phil began spending more and more nights at Dan’s, sometimes as many as four in a week. They continued their routine of meeting up at uni and hanging out and doing homework in their secluded corners, and their friendship grew even stronger, pulling them closer in the process.

Dan’s lessons in witchcraft with Mari also continued. A seed of an idea had been sown in the back of his mind, and as he became more educated in the ways and limitations of magic the idea sprouted and began to branch out and put down roots, and Dan knew that it should be possible - if only he could find the right words and ingredients, and if he could persuade Mari to help him.

_For Phil,_ Dan thought, _I’ll have to try._

*

The group was loud and rowdy, their excited voices cutting through the still evening air and leaving behind a faint scent of fruity alcohol from the pre-drinks.

Dan and Phil trailed reluctantly behind Phil’s flatmates as they made their slightly unsteady way through the streets of the student village. They were heading to a party at one of the larger houses. Phil’s flatmates had been relentless in insisting that he come with them, and he had finally succumbed to peer pressure and agreed to go; he had then dragged Dan along too, who had nothing better to do anyway without Phil.

The party was well underway by the time they got there, and they found it surprisingly easy to blend in with the other raucous students. It took only seconds for Phil’s flatmates to disappear into the crowds of unfamiliar faces and bodies, but Dan and Phil stuck together like magnets, making their way around the walls until they found themselves by the drinks table.

Several cups of an unknown-but-definitely-alcoholic punch and three rounds of Jägerbombs later, and they were both greatly enjoying themselves, much to their surprise. Although Phil couldn’t hear the music, it was loud enough that the bassline vibrated audibly in his chest. He told Dan so via sign language, which was very useful for communicating as even Dan couldn’t have heard anything less than a shout over the noise. They swayed and bobbed energetically on the edge of the dance floor, still reluctant to fully integrate; in the feral chaos of the party, the two introverts in the corner felt almost like another species.

Only a minute or so after downing the last of his most recent drink, Phil’s happy expression abruptly turned to one of panicked discomfort, and he turned to Dan, signing urgently that he was going to be sick.

Dan’s brain was sluggish from the alcohol, but he hurried to set down his cup and lead Phil through the crowds and upstairs to the bathroom.

They barely made it. As Phil knelt next to the toilet and retched, Dan sat on the lid of the laundry basket and tried to blink away the cloud of intoxication - although they had drunk similar amounts, Phil was clearly much more of a lightweight.

They had been in there for a while; Dan was almost falling asleep where he sat, but he was suddenly jolted awake when the door burst open to reveal his least favourite people.

Lukas led his gang over the threshold, glaring menacingly. Dan scrambled upright, placing one hand on Phil’s lower back to get his attention.

“So this is where you two’re hiding.” Lukas’s voice was low but unsteady; he had clearly been drinking as well. “So glad we found you,” he continued, grinning sadistically. “Alone. Outta the way. I’m gonna teach you… I dunno what you did before, but I’m gonna make you pay. I’m gonna teach you… an’ you can’t hide behind annoying barista people this time.”

Dan stepped forward, standing between Lukas and Phil. “Leave him alone,” he said forcefully.

Lukas smirked. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to one of his lackeys. He squared up to Dan, getting so close up in his face that their noses were only a few centimetres apart.

His fist swung out of nowhere, connecting with the side of Dan’s head before he had time to react. Dan was knocked sideways against the sink, stumbling to keep his footing and sending toiletries flying as he grabbed at the basin for support. Lukas’s friends were laughing; Dan could feel a bruise blooming on his ribs where they had made contact with the edge the porcelain. He pushed himself upright and without thinking hurled himself at Lukas, rugby-tackling him around the waist and knocking him off-balance.

They tussled back and forth, throwing hands and knees and elbows at faces, bodies, crotches; Lukas’s gang cheered him on, enjoying the violence.

Finally, Dan’s fist connected with Lukas’s cheekbone; the crunch of bone-on-bone was accompanied by a yell of pain, and Lukas stumbled backwards. They broke apart, panting heavily.

Blood droplets were scattered across the clean white of the sink and wall; both boys sported impressive purple bruises on their faces and bodies; Dan’s eyebrow was split by a weeping line of red, as were Lukas’s lip and cheek where Dan had punched him.

In the moment of calm, Dan stepped backwards, moving protectively in front of Phil, who had remained crouched beside the toilet during the fight. Now, however, he stood up and gently but firmly pushed Dan out of the way, facing Lukas and his gang with a face like thunder.

Lukas laughed. “And what’re _you_ gonna do, Cat-tongue?” he taunted, nursing the wound on his cheek. “You couldn’t kill a fly if you tried!”

Phil looked terrible - pale and hollowed - but there was something in his eyes that was nevertheless intimidating. He didn’t reply to Lukas; instead, he raised his hands and signed something that Dan didn’t recognise, pushing his palms forward from his chest. A shockwave travelled outwards from him, and the force of the magic blasted Lukas and his friends backwards off their feet to slump in an unconscious pile against the opposite wall.

Dan stared at him in shock. Phil looked down at his hands in surprise for a moment, and then collapsed against Dan in a faint.

Dan took only seconds to recover. Quickly, he hooked one of Phil’s arms around his own neck and supported him out of the house; over the unconscious bodies of Lukas’s gang, down the stairs and out of the front door. No-one paid them any attention; no-one asked about Dan’s beaten-up face, and everyone presumably just assumed that Phil was really drunk.

Dan supported his friend a little way down the road to where the was a small alleyway between the houses, out of sight of the party. Propping Phil against the wall, he pulled out his phone and texted Mari, telling her briefly that he was bringing Phil home immediately. Once he had tucked his phone safely in his pocket, Dan took secure hold of Phil once again and concentrated, tilting his face up to the starless sky and muttering a spell of teleportation.

The world dissolved into black and purple smoke around them; swirling wildly, whipping their hair and clothes like hundred-mile-an-hour wind through a car window. Their feet remained firmly planted on invisible solid ground, but still, Dan clung onto Phil as though both their lives depended on it, closing his eyes against the blurring darkness.

As suddenly as it had started, the world stopped rushing and reassembled itself. Dan stumbled under Phil’s weight as a moment of dizziness took him over, and then he was able to focus on their surroundings: the dull-coloured wooden box of Mari’s kitchen, lit by the harsh yellow ceiling light, with the figure of his great-aunt hurrying over to where they stood beside the stairs. Her face was creased with concern.

“What happened?” Mari took Phil’s other arm and helped Dan lower him into one of the dining chairs. “You shouldn’t have drunk so much, Daniel, you should know better; it’s a miracle you even managed to teleport here without killing yourselves in your state.” She paused, taking in his black-and-blue appearance. “What happened to your face?” she asked, reaching out to touch his cut eyebrow and bruised jaw.

Dan flinched away from her. “Nothing, it’s fine - just an encounter with jerks who needed to be taught a lesson.”

Mari frowned at him, sucking her lips over her teeth in an expression of worry. Despite Dan’s reluctance, she traced one finger along the wound on his eyebrow, murmuring a healing spell.

“I’m fine,” Dan insisted. “It’s Phil I’m worried about: he used magic.”

That got Mari’s attention. Her hand froze, her expression turning to one of shock as she stared Dan directly in the eye. “He… what? You’re sure it was magic?”

“Definitely.”

Dan watched as Mari’s thoughts whirled, but she didn’t share any of them. Instead, she turned and hurried towards the basement and disappeared behind the heavy door, leaving Dan alone with the barely conscious Phil. A couple of minutes later, Mari emerged with two small glass vials, pale blue potion sloshing around inside.

“Here,” she said, holding one out to Dan.

“What is it?” Dan asked, taking the vial.

“It will help you feel better,” Mari said, indicating him to drink as she uncorked the other vial and held it up to Phil’s lips, supporting his head and helping him to sip from it. Dan knocked his back, and instantly the cloud of alcohol began to clear from his mind. “Once I knew I was having a teenaged student coming to stay, I figured sobering potions would come in handy,” Mari added.

With both vials empty, Mari assisted Dan in getting Phil upstairs, supporting him between them. In Dan’s room, she lowered Phil onto the bed and turned to her great-nephew.

“You both need rest,” she instructed. “Sleep well; I will see you in the morning.”

She left, closing the door behind herself. Dan took a moment to remove Phil’s shoes and jacket, then stripped off himself to just his underwear and climbed into bed beside the black-haired boy, falling asleep almost immediately.


	10. Chapter 10

Phil’s head pounded dully. His body ached as though he had bench pressed a car. When he blinked them open, his eyes felt dry and bloodshot.

He was lying in Dan’s bed, with no memory of how he had got there. The room was filled with muted grey daylight, and there was no sign of Dan except for his clothes abandoned on the floor.

Phil sat up and swung his legs off the bed, moving slowly after a warning pang of dizziness made colours dance behind his eyes. He blinked a few times, waiting for the sensation to pass, and then stood up and carefully walked towards the door. His hand shook as he reached out, rattling the door handle slightly as he turned it and pulled. Stepping slowly and carefully, Phil descended the stairs, pulling the door to but not all the way closed behind himself.

*

Dan paused, a piece of toast held halfway up to his mouth. He turned around to face the stairs, where the sound of heavy footsteps had alerted him to Phil’s presence.

The poor boy looked half dead. Phil braced himself between the wall and banister as though he might fall over at any moment; he moved slowly, almost limping, stepping down with one foot, landing heavily, then moving the other foot down to the same step before moving the first foot again; his head was bowed, his limp fringe flopping over his even-paler-than-usual face.

From the kitchen, Mari also looked over her shoulder to watch him. She took in his ragged appearance, then reached over and put the kettle on to boil.

Phil reached the bottom of the stairs and trudged towards Dan, slumping into the seat next to him with a loud _uff_ and leaning forward with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

“How do you feel?” Dan asked him, signing as he spoke.

Phil lifted his head slightly and crossed his arms in an ‘X’ shape, his hands loose fists except for his pointed pinkies. He flicked his hands outwards, uncrossing his arms: the sign for _‘awful’_. Dan smiled sympathetically. _‘What happened?’_ Phil added, looking up at Dan with bleary eyes.

“How much do you remember?” Dan asked. Phil just shrugged. Dan bit his lip and exhaled, unsure how to explain. “Well,” he began, “we went to the party last night, and, as you can probably guess, drank quite a lot.” Phil nodded and twitched his eyebrows in a kind of _yeah, well_ expression. “Lukas and his thugs were there as well,” Dan continued, watching Phil’s face carefully. “They cornered us in the bathroom… they were taunting us, throwing fists-” Dan indicated the magically-healed scar on his eyebrow, “-and I tried to protect you because you were pretty out of it by then, but you...” Dan paused. Phil jerked his chin slightly in a _go on_ gesture, a small frown creasing his forehead. “Phil… you used magic.”

For several seconds, Phil’s expression remained blank. Dan wasn’t sure he had understood, so he signed it; but before he had finished Phil sat back, shaking his head, eyes wide in shock and confusion.

Dan looked over at Mari pleadingly; she gave him a look like ‘I told you this wouldn’t go well’, but she came over to the table - Jappa on her shoulder - and took the seat the other side of Phil.

“Phil,” she said gently, looking him in the eyes; “from what Daniel tells me, what you did was force defensive magic. It is simple, but requires a lot of power to perform effectively.” Phil just stared at her, his only movement that of his chest rising and falling rapidly. “It is my belief,” Mari continued, “that because you have been spending so much time in this house, something within you has been triggered to release your magical potential. The same thing happened to Daniel when he first came here, although it has taken significantly longer in you. You must have some ancestry in witchcraft to be able to perform magic instinctively like that, but yours is probably a lot more distant than mine and Daniel’s.”

Mari gave Phil a few moments to let that sink in, and when he didn’t respond she added: “If you would like, I could teach you to use your powers consciously, to control them - as I do with Daniel. There is no rush to decide,” she assured him as Phil’s eyes grew even wider still. “I shall leave you boys alone to discuss, if you wish. Please do help yourself to breakfast.”

With that, Mari left, crossing to her study and closing the door behind herself.

Jappa, who had hopped down from Mari’s shoulder onto the table, looked up at Phil with his head cocked to one side, glancing at Dan a few seconds later when Phil continued to just stare at his empty plate.

Dan met the raven’s gaze for a moment before turning back to Phil. “Would you like some toast and coffee?” he offered, making sure his signing hands were within Phil’s line of sight.

The black-haired boy shook his head, seemingly reluctant to meet Dan’s eyes.

_‘If he’s not gonna have it, can I eat his toast?’_ Jappa asked, but before Dan could reply, Phil’s head jerked up, staring in shock and fear at the raven.

Dan looked at him worriedly. Phil turned to Dan and signed _‘He can talk?!’_

Dan grinned. “Yeah; you can hear him?”

Phil didn’t answer. His hands came up to rub his face, settling over his eyes like a mask for a few moments before sliding down and dripping into his lap.

Dan gave the black-haired boy a few minutes to think. He finished his own breakfast, then began ripping up a spare slice of toast for Jappa.

“So,” he said, offering pieces to the hungry raven but looking at Phil, “what do you think? Do you want witchcraft lessons with me?” The excitement in his voice and expression was obvious, despite his attempts to mask it.

Phil looked up and stared Dan in the eyes. They held it for several long seconds, exploring each other’s gaze for some kind of answer.

Then Phil blinked and looked away. _‘I want to go home.’_

Dan’s face fell. “Are you sure?”

Phil nodded, not looking him in the eye. Dan wondered if he ever would again.

Phil left the room, heading upstairs to fetch his jacket and shoes. When he came back down, there was a new barrier between the two boys.

“Do you want a lift?” Dan asked as they stood by the open door.

Phil shook his head. _‘Need time,’_ he signed to his feet. He glanced up and gave Dan a small but absent smile, then quickly turned and walked away across the drive and down the lane.

Jappa flew over and perched on Dan’s shoulder as he closed the door, rubbing sympathetically against his neck. Mari emerged from the study, a slight frown of confusion on her face when she realised that Dan was alone.

“What happened?” she asked.

Slowly, Dan raised his eyes to look at her. His expression was full of sadness as he whispered, “I don’t know.”


	11. Chapter 11

On Monday, Dan didn’t see Phil anywhere. He wasn’t in any of their usual meeting places, and he didn’t answer when Dan tried to text him. Out of desperation, Dan waited outside the theatre where Phil usually had his lectures, but when the class came spilling out of the door there was no sign of the lanky black-haired boy.

Feeling deflated, Dan headed home. As he sat on the rattling bus, staring blankly at the world rushing by, he came to the conclusion that maybe Phil just needed some space, and that he should let him alone to figure things out for himself.

However, there was still no sign of Phil over the next couple of days, and by Thursday Dan was getting really worried.

Maybe there was something he could do to make Phil feel better…

*

Dan lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles against the door - once, twice, thrice - before stepping back and waiting, biting his lip anxiously.

Silence. No-one answered.

“Hello?” Dan called. “Anyone home?”

Still nothing.

Dan glanced around, checking to see if there was anyone who might ask what he was doing, but thankfully the stairwell was deserted. Dan placed his hand on the doorknob and leaned against the door; a whispered spell fell from his lips, and the lock clicked, allowing him to open the door.

Phil’s apartment was deserted - his roommates were probably still at lectures, although it was strange that no-one was home at this time on a Friday afternoon. Dan closed the door behind himself and made his way down the hallway to Phil’s room.

It looked much the same as it had the last time Dan was here: loft bed, houseplants, cushions on the floor, messy desk, TV in the corner, etc. Only one detail immediately stood out to him as strange: lying in the middle of the desk, the elastic off and a pencil beside it as though it had just been used and its owner would be back in a minute, was Phil’s leather-bound sketchbook.

This struck Dan as unusual instantly; Phil took that sketchbook with him everywhere, including classes - it was unlike him to just leave it in his room.

Curious, Dan approached the desk, looking around for any clues as to why and where Phil had gone. Seeing none, he turned to the sketchbook, picking it up carefully and letting it fall open at a random page.

A sharp intake of breath cut the still air as the picture revealed itself. Heavy, dark pencil lines. Anguished expressions. Black ink smudged across twisted bodies.

Dan pulled his eyes away from the drawings and glanced at the upper left corner of the page, where the date was scribbled. The drawing was only a few days old.

Dan held his breath as he slowly leafed through to the more recent sketches. The next two spreads were similarly chaotic, and Dan got a lump in his throat at the thought that he had played some part in making Phil feel this way. The next pages became gradually more simple and refined, although still dark; monstrous creatures with black fur and glowing eyes and teeth, menacing silhouettes of robed figures, and a raven much resembling Jappa with a serrated beak.

But as Dan flicked through, the pictures grew lighter, happier, more relaxed. Animals curled up on cosy hearths; bundles of herbs; a rainbow-coloured cloud of watercolour splashed across a double spread, surrounded and filled with sparkles and potion-bottle doodles. And then a faceless figure with dark hair, its hands held out on each side; above one floated a heart in a jar; from the other dangled a potion flask on a string.

Finally, Dan came to the last sketch in the book (for the moment, at least - Dan hoped that the empty pages after it would soon be filled with happier thoughts). It was a simple image, dated that day: a figure that was unmistakably Phil, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall of a cuboid-shaped building. Below the drawing, four words were scrawled: “magic is all around”.

Dan recognised the location in the drawing; he had a pretty good idea where Phil was.

Turning away from the desk, Dan slipped the sketchbook into his bag and went to find his friend.

*

Thunder rumbled. Rain tumbled from the grey clouds, heavy and relentless, beating bruises into the ground. But despite the weather, Phil was exactly where Dan had expected him to be: sitting in their usual spot behind the science block.

Phil’s fringe was plastered to his face, which stared blankly at the grass a little way beyond his feet. He didn’t look up as Dan approached, or when the brunet sat down next to him. Dan thought for a moment, then held one hand out, palm upwards, and murmured a spell; an orb of warmth appeared in his hand and expanded until it covered both of them in a protective forcefield that prevented the cold weather from reaching them, drying out their hair and clothes and the ground beneath them as it passed. Phil glanced at Dan as the bubble grew, but returned to middle-distancing before it reached full size.

Dan paused, not sure how to proceed. After a few seconds, he reached into his bag and retrieved Phil’s sketchbook. He glanced at the other boy, and then carefully set the journal on Phil’s leg. Phil blinked, staring down at it blankly.

_‘It’s not like you to leave it,’_ Dan signed, holding his hands lower so that they were in Phil’s line of sight.

Phil read Dan’s signs out of the corner of his eye, then stared back down at his sketchbook. Eventually, he looked up and faced Dan.

_‘I don’t know who I am anymore,’_ he signed. His gestures were small and muted, like a whisper.

Dan gave him a sympathetic smile. _‘You may not want to use your powers,’_ he signed, _‘and that’s fine. Your magic is your drawing, your amazing imagination. That’s who you are. You don’t have to be a witch to work that kind of magic. But let me show you how I use my magic…’_ Dan stopped signing and reached into his bag a second time, this time pulling out a glass flask filled with grass-green potion.

*

_“Come on, Mari; you have to help me, I can’t do it without you,” Dan pleaded. He leaned on the counter island, facing his great-aunt across the polished wooden surface. Mari merely looked sceptical, leaning back against the stove with her arms crossed. “I’ve done all the research,” Dan continued, “I know I can do this, but it would be so much easier with your help - you specialise in healing potions, you should know something about this.”_

_“I deal with small ailments, Daniel,” Mari told him firmly. “Not big things like this. Besides, even if it works, it would be too much to explain.”_

_“It’ll be fine, I’ll deal with that,” Dan assured her. “Please, Mari.”_

_For several moments, the two of them just stared at each other in silence; one face pleading, the other unyielding, both reluctant to back down._

__‘Mari,’ _Jappa said cautiously from his perch on her shoulder,_ ‘we have to at least give him the chance.’ __

_Mari glanced at her familiar, her expression unreadable. Then she turned back to Dan, analyzing him, measuring him up._

_“Fine.” Her arms uncrossed and dropped to her sides, weak in defeat._

_Dan exhaled and grinned at her, his thanks clear on his face. He watched as Mari pushed off from the stove and walked around the counter island, towards the door under the stairs._

_“I think it’s time I showed you the basement,” she said, unlocking the door and pushing it open to reveal the spiral stairs descending into darkness._

_Dan followed her down. In the artificial yellow glow of the electric bulbs, it felt like a recurring hallucination - a looping gif of a downstairs treadmill. After what seemed like three flights, they emerged into the main room, and Dan’s eyes widened in awe._

_The basement was massive, with ceilings twenty feet high and a floor area similar to a large church; the walls were covered in racks and shelves of ingredient jars, tools such as knives and tongs, and books; workbenches were laid out down the centre of the room, littered with a vast array of chemistry clamp stands, flasks, burners and loose papers that any mad scientist would be proud of; at the far end from the foot of the stairs, a long line of cauldrons were set up, hanging on heavy chains above a wide trough of fire, and many had different colours of smoke rising out of them._

_Mari turned to face him. “Well, you’re in charge now, Daniel,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “What do we need?”_

_Dan pulled a crumpled list out of his pocket. He showed it to Mari, and after a few minutes of deliberation they set to work._

*

Dan offered the flask to Phil. “This potion,” he explained, “will cure your deafness. It should also give you your voice, so you can live an easier life.”

Phil stared at him in shock, apparently unable to think of a response.

“Obviously I’m not going to force you to drink it,” Dan assured him, “but I want to help you.”

Phil looked back at the flask. Slowly, he extended one hand to take it, and Dan watched as Phil stared at the liquid inside, tilting it back and forth to see how it moved. He uncorked the flask, his hands shaking slightly, and lifted it to his nose to smell it. Finally, he looked back at Dan. It was awkward to sign with one hand full, but he managed it: _‘I trust you.’_

He lifted it to his lips and chugged the potion down in three gulps before he could change his mind.

Dan watched anxiously as Phil lowered the flask and swallowed. He frowned slightly at the taste, but nothing changed. He looked at Dan, blinking like he was waiting for something to happen. Then his eyes slid half-shut, and he collapsed limply against Dan, the flask falling with a quiet thud on the soft ground. Dan caught Phil and examined his face, calling his name urgently. He felt for a pulse in Phil’s neck, then tried shaking the boy’s shoulders to get him to wake up.

For a minute or so, Phil remained motionless. For a minute or so, Dan freaked out that he had killed his best friend, that the potion hadn’t worked - worse, that it had gone wrong…

But then, to his great relief, Phil’s eyes blinked open, and he looked up at Dan with a slightly woozy expression.

“H-how do you feel?” Dan asked, trying to control his breathlessness.

Phil’s eyes widened, and a smile began to creep across his face. _‘I can hear you,’_ he signed.

Dan laughed, a loud release of happiness, relief and joy that the potion had worked. Phil began to laugh too, and for the first time, Dan heard the sparkle in his expression, growing louder and stronger as Phil found his voice for the first time ever in his life. Dan leaned closer and hugged him tightly, their faces buried in each other’s shoulders, their hot laughing breath tickling each other’s necks.

After a moment, Phil sat up and looked around, his eyes wide in awe and his ears pricked like a young wolf pup’s, taking in this new experience of the world that stormed outside their safe bubble.

“What can you hear?” Dan asked softly.

Phil didn’t answer for a second. Then he looked at his friend and smiled:

“Magic.”


End file.
